


Dream Function

by Lost_In_A_Tunnel



Category: NieR: Automata (Video Game)
Genre: Dreams, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-07-05 13:28:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 38,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15864555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lost_In_A_Tunnel/pseuds/Lost_In_A_Tunnel
Summary: Dreaming is supposed to be an impossibility for androids. That's what 9S thought, until he encountered one himself. Is this top-of-the-line model defective, or is there more to this reoccurring dream of his?Being the victim of an unquenchable curiosity function, 9S cannot help but want to understand the meaning behind his dream even as it passes the point of obsession.





	1. Anomaly

**Author's Note:**

> First and foremost, I apologize for the lack of tags used. This site is a new experience for me and I am unsure of what tags would be appropriate to use. If someone feels that I need to add a certain tag that is fitting to the story, please let me know.
> 
> Ratings and archive warnings are subject to change as the story progresses, but at the moment higher ratings are not needed.
> 
> .
> 
> This is not an exploration of "Can androids dream?" That feels like a different topic entirely. This is what happens when I become curious with the idea of everyone's favorite Scanner Model remembering previous experiences from a past life involuntarily, despite his memories being completely reset. A big "Well, what if..." that I have not seen answered yet. 
> 
> Some scenes may be clearer if you've read Memory Cage, the first of the two canon novellas for Nier: Automata. 
> 
> .
> 
> All right, you people. go have fun.
> 
> Don't forget to visit the gift shop on your way out.

Dreaming wasn’t entirely understood by humans. From the data I’ve read, it’s a collection of memories and recent experiences mashed together by the shutdown of the brain’s logic center. They had the science down, but others claimed that dreams were more than just vivid images that could be explained rationally. There was data on dreams being visions to other universes, or the soul taking on a form of its own until the conscience would re-awaken. One piece of data even said that dreams could be used to see into the future. From what I concluded, dreams did not make sense, which made more sense than not oddly enough. That’s as far as they got to understanding them, making it as far as I will get for now.

The dreams of an android are much simpler to understand. Upon entering a rest cycle, we can re-run through our previous memories that we have committed to permanent storage exactly as they happened from our own perspective. It’s like reliving the event itself without being in control. All of the senses are there as well. Every scent, every sound, everything. It’s not dreaming by definition, even though some refer to it as such, but it’s the closest an android is supposed to get.

It sounds boring at first, watching something that has already been experienced, but it’s better than the alternative of waiting the eight or ten hours until the rest cycle completes itself while doing absolutely nothing. Trust me, I tried it. I lasted exactly 36 seconds before I gave in and started to cycle through my memories of field testing. You would think being out on the field for the first time is an exciting experience. If that’s the case you’re probably a combat model. Field testing for me, a scanner model, is a lot of looking at things to gather and interpret intel. I would have chosen something more exciting to re-live, but these are the only memories I have at the moment worth viewing. I’m fresh off of the conveyor belt, as they say.

But this was something else, something that should not even be next to possible for an android.

I was halfway through my second memory. In it, I was standing up after I was given the order to proceed to my next field test site when the sun found a path between the many towers of the city and took me by surprise. I brought my hand over my eyes until the visor could compensate, but when I removed my hand from my face I wasn’t in the city anymore.

I wasn’t in myself anymore.

The heat was unforgiving, and the sun, bright as ever, was attacking from all directions. I could make out the rolling sand dunes and a mountain-side with no problem, and I felt the sting of the sand against my exposed skin as the wind picked up. There was no doubt in my mind that this was a desert. As to be expected, I had no control over my body. All I could do was stand there and take the desert’s beatings. But I’ve never experienced a desert before, so it couldn’t have been me. Could it?

There was something else, too. An arch? It looked like it was embedded into the side of a mountain, framing an entrance. My eyes refused to focus on it. There was one more thing, a figure on top of the arch. Again, the eyes of whoever this was failed me. Maybe it was just a part of the design? It seemed a bit too contrasting with the sand-like colors of the rest of the arch. Too dark, too ominous.

While scanners are programmed to be a curious bunch, such programs take a break while the rest cycle is activated. At that moment, I wanted out. I tried to close out the memory, but it refused to acknowledge my input. I tried various commands and overrides with no luck. Self-hacking, the fail-safe, was just as unresponsive. I recalled some data I read between field tests on the act of dreaming. I was trying to compare the research findings to whatever this was until I felt a change in my peripheral vision.

I focused my attention back on the memory, and only one thing had changed. The figure was standing in front of the structure, a little closer, a little darker.

A little more alluring.

I felt my chest start to heat up. My black box was giving the desert’s heat a run for its money.

_This doesn’t make sense_ , was my last logical thought before—

“Alert…”

I shot up from my bed. My breathing had accelerated and my bearings were out of focus. Pod 153’s voice, as digitally monotone as it sounded, was a welcome familiarity.

“Abnormally high temperatures in Unit 9S’ black box..."

That explained the cold sweat. It’s a messy, and involuntary, response but it does keep our bodies cool enough to buy a few extra minutes to do something about the rising temperatures.

“Pulse rate elevated to unsafe levels. Abnormal air intake pattern detected. It is advisable that Unit 9S…“

As much as I appreciated the pre-programmed concern, I had heard it all before. I let 153’s voice die to the background. My visual sensors adjusted to the rising lights of my room, activating on detecting movement within. They bleached almost every surface, and contrasted the rest until the Bunker’s interior could fit the gray-scale. It never looked so heavenly. I guess that’s the term for it. I have no real concept of what a heaven might look like. But of the three places I’ve been, the surface of the Earth, the Bunker, and my own mind, this is the closest I think I’m going to get. I felt safer here than in my own head right now.

I tried to focus on my breathing to get my black box some cool air. Already I could feel the heat in my chest drop to a more tolerable temperature. The multiple red warnings on my display faded until I was only left with the default HUD. I untied my visor to let the Bunker’s cool air hit my face without restriction.

 “Pod, what’s the status of my memory region?”

“Scanning. Memory region intact. No abnormalities detected.”

“No, that can’t be right. There was something. What did I see?” I was unsure whether I was speaking to 153, or myself.

“Unknown. Unit 9S ceased memory functions five hours and seventeen minutes ago.”

I leaned forward and carefully shook my head. It was simple math, but I ran the numbers anyway. It still didn’t add up. “Five hours. But I only entered the rest cycle, what, two hours ago?”

“Negative. Unit 9S has been in rest cycle for eight hours and twenty-four minutes.”

There were more questions I wanted to ask despite knowing 153 held no answers. It didn’t help that I didn’t even know what questions to ask. All I could do was sit on the edge of my bed and wipe the excess sweat away from my eyes. I needed to know more, but I didn’t know where to start. I guess my curiosity programs were back in action.

My thought process was interrupted by the familiar ring of an incoming transmission through 153. With haste, I put my visor back on. The knot was a little loose but that was okay for now. Having a uniform citation being one of the first things in my record didn’t sound appealing.

The transmission opened to reveal the face of my operator, 21O.

“Hello, 9S.”

As always her expression refused to budge, though I only ever saw the top half of her face. Maybe the bottom half was a little more animated. She always seemed disinterested in everything not mission related, and kept conversation during her contacts to a minimum, even on my field tests. Oddly enough they felt easier with her watching over me from the Bunker. I guess her perpetually calm demeanor had rubbed off in some way. Maybe I could coax more conversation out of her, seeing as I’m not taking part in a mission for the moment? “Good morning Operator. How’re you this morn—“

“The Commander wishes to speak with you about your upcoming assignment…”

That’s a no.

“But first you are to report to Unit 2B’s quarters. The Commander has paired her with you for your upcoming mission, thus placing you in charge of her maintenance. Meet up with her and report to the Commander. Do you understand?”

“Yeah, yeah.” _I’m not an idiot, you know._

“One affirmation will suffice, 9S.”

 I’m not sure what I expected. “Fine.” I thanked my visor to myself for hiding my rolling eyes.

The screen closed, leaving me room to stand up from my bed. I took a few seconds to stretch the joints in my body. I needed to find out more about this dream-like memory I didn’t have. Logic reminded me that androids can’t dream. I re-did the knot, securing the visor to my head this time, while I tried to decide which thought to start on.

“Proposal: Unit 9S should proceed to Unit 2B’s quarters.”

And I thought I was impatient. “Yes, I know. Thank you.” That came out sharper than I intended. I turned to walk out of my quarters, but a small weight held me back. It felt wrong to be annoyed with 153. Pods could only follow their programming after all. I turned around and gave a light pat on the back of the pod’s rectangular compartment. “I’m sorry, Pod. Thank you.”

I’m not sure if a pod is capable of understanding annoyance or guilt. Still, the weight lifted from my chest upon apologizing. Maybe it was my imagination, but 153 seemed to hover with a little more enthusiasm as we left my room.

It seemed this anomaly in my memory region would have to wait. Everything else had become less interesting, but our duty comes first.

-

But I couldn’t wait. My mind unwillingly picked up where it left off, racing with questions only to be met with answers that did not match the puzzle at all. I combed through my memory regions looking for this memory of a desert I’m not supposed to possess. Nothing came close to fitting the bill. I tried to find the, I’m hesitant to use the word, _dream_ , but nothing coherent revealed itself. How was I even remembering it now? It was just another question to my ever-growing list. My best guess was that, at the moment, the experience was too surreal to be stored properly. Almost like a glitch. I needed more data, I knew that, but knowing where to start was a different story.

 “Warning: Unit 9S should rendezvous with Unit 2B before proceeding to the Commander as instructed.”

153’s voice tugged me out of my pit of questions and back into reality. It seemed that I walked past 2B’s room without realizing it. I’m pretty sure if it wasn’t for 153 I would have ended up doing laps around the Bunker’s centrifugal hall.

It was acceptable in the Bunker to enter someone’s room without an advanced warning, but I wanted to make a polite first impression. With that, I knocked.

No response. I guess I wasn’t knocking hard enough, these are thick doors after all. I raised my arm to knock again, but the door opened before I had the chance. When she stepped into the hall my pre-programmed instincts pulled me an equal step back, though there were no threat detections. The warnings alerting me to the sudden rise in my black box temperature and the increased pulse rate appeared and flooded my view with red again. I acknowledged them before 153 could get a word in.

It must have been how she held her stance. It demanded respect and gave intimidation in return. If she stood like this in the main hall of the Bunker then others would move out of the way without expecting her to even consider returning the favor for mutual convenience. I didn’t know whether to stand at attention or to cower in a corner. But I knew that I wanted to stare at her. Not any one part of her, just _her_.

The door sealing behind her woke me up enough to understand that I had to break my trance before this became awkward for the both of us. “Uh, hello. I’m 9S.”

No response. I fought to keep my legs planted.

“You’re 2B, right?” The question forced itself out. I was desperate to break the silence, but even midway I flinched at the stupidity behind it.

She looked to the screen next to her door frame that read “2B,” and then back to me. I’m glad she wasn’t being too verbal. I’d hate the first words from my new partner to be, “Wow, you’re an idiot.” But her face remained unreadable behind her visor. She could have been checking to see if she had the right room herself, for all she was letting on.

I hadn’t realized it, but my hands were fidgeting with each other behind my back. I let them fall to my sides where they began playing with the edges of my coat. “The, uh, the Commander has made me responsible for your maintenance, ma’am.”

“Understood.”

My jaw clenched, but in another instant everything loosened itself. I expected a mocking tone at least, but her voice carried a soothing pitch void of ridicule. Still, it did not take away from her stance.

It didn’t matter to me. In only one word she became more approachable. We were communicating now, forcing an invisible barrier between us to fall. I still kept my distance, not wanting to test my luck. She acknowledged my role in our partnership, not confess some eternal and undying love. Though I doubt I’d complain.

Clearing my throat, I continued. “The Commander also wanted to speak with us. It seemed important, so I guess we better go and see her as soon as possible...” I felt like I was forgetting something. “Ma’am,” I finished.

“Stop…”

A shiver traveled around my chest and down my spine. I bit my tongue back before I could say anything else to offend further.

“Stop calling me ma’am.”

 “I, I’m sorry.”

“It’s unnecessary to be so formal.”

She seemed so military, so by-the-book. Refusing formalities was more than unexpected. I could only manage enough movement for my head to let her know I understood. I don’t know if that satisfied her enough, but she started towards the Command Center, her own pod in tow, anyway. The elegant clicking of her heels became more and more distant. Earlier I was fighting my legs to remain stiff, now I fought with them to catch up to her.

Despite not being too expressive, I managed to get a reading on 2B’s face. It wasn’t some big mystery like I had made it out to be, it was just so obvious that I did not even think to look at it as a possibility.

Her face embodied one of YoRHa’s top regulations, “Emotions are prohibited.”


	2. Dream Flow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well here we are.  
> And I still don't know what additional tags would be suitable for this.
> 
> Still, hope you all enjoy.  
> .  
> Don't forget to get your card stamped on the way out.  
> Five stamps and you'll win a new computer.  
> Fifty stamps and you'll win the computer's password.

I should have checked with the maintenance teams to have them root through my memories. They would probably have more luck understanding my condition than I’ve had, but what would that get me? A defective notice before my first real mission, that’s what. I think I’ll pass.

It’s a selfish choice. One unit not being in the best condition possible puts both the mission and their team at risk. But a scanner normally operates alone, and just the idea of having nobody to talk to, to watch my back.

Nobody to care.

I closed my eyes and took deep, subtle breaths to keep my joints and artificial muscles from tensing. No, I refused to pass up the opportunity to work alongside someone else. To not be alone. I’ll consider maintenance an option if my head decides to detonate on its own.

“Is your mission understood?”

The operations of the Command Center came back into focus. The large screen at the front of the room displayed a constant flow of data and ground surveillance being interpreted by the operators, tapping away at their terminals on the balconies below us, to send off information for their counterparts down on the surface to act on. All of it, one big nervous system disguised as a war room.

I picked my head up to meet the Commander’s, her eyes screaming discipline to mine. Of all of the times to get lost in thought, during the Commander’s briefings was at the top of the list to not do so. My pulse was nearing uncomfortable levels while I scrambled to come up with an answer.

“We. Uh—“

“We are to gather intel on possible ground-based supply routes for the Resistance and map out and engage any pockets of machine lifeforms along said routes.” 2B wasted no time taking the initiative. With her gloved hands holding each other behind her back and legs planted at shoulder length, truly I stood in the presence of the poster child for YoRHa.

The Commander turned to 2B, choosing a more lenient expression for her. “I’m glad that the stakes of this mission are being taken seriously…”

I’m glad one of us was listening.

“With the machine lifeforms picking up on our re-supply patterns, we’re going to need these routes secured as soon as possible to generate a new supply flow and keep our operations in the area running.” The commander turned around to take her spot at the center of the balcony, facing the large screen. As is her usual signal for dismissal. “Your flight units await.”

“Thank you, Commander.” 2B turned to the Command Center’s exit. The graceful movements of this combat model still amazed me. There seemed to be a lot of care given to calibrating her balance and motor functions for her to display such fluid movement. Too much care for grunt work like this.

“Commander?”

“Yes, 9S?” The minimal effort she put in to turn my way was almost insulting.

 _What was the sense of sending a cutting edge combat model on a low-tier mission such as this?_ Many different iterations of the question flooded my mind. But another question stood out from all of the others, as it was meant for myself.

Did I want to jeopardize my chance to be paired with another unit, despite how their role was not suited for such a mission? If such is the case, should I be assigned to a different unit all together? My black box port felt empty and unnaturally cold. I didn’t understand it, but the feeling only intensified with the thought of working with a different unit other than 2B. So much so that my curiosity backed down.

“9S?” The commander had turned her body and neck to face me, to look down on me. I know the Commander does not tolerate wasted mission time, but this wasn’t impatience I was met with. This was suspicion.

“I’m sorry, Commander. It’s nothing.” I collected myself and departed to meet 2B in the Hangar. Despite not looking back to the Commander, I didn’t feel her eyes leave me until I broke her line of sight.

-

The Ho229 Flight Unit prototype is the latest version of the aerial assault vehicles used exclusively by YoRHa. With their ability to shift from an aircraft, capable of flight in both atmospheric and microgravity environments, to a highly maneuverable and lethal exoskeleton, in the right hands a squadron of flight units can challenge entire legions of machine lifeforms. At least, that’s the plan after they’ve been perfected.

For right now, they had the reputation for being the most expensive pieces of offensive equipment at YoRHa’s disposal. Being a scanner I was lucky to ever get to see one in action, let alone operate one. The last time I was allowed to be in a flight unit was for my field testing, and it was set to auto-pilot for the flight to and from the surface. This time I was blessed with having full control after entering the atmosphere.

As much as I had looked forward to this part of the mission, I couldn’t shake the feeling of the Commander’s last glare. What if she suspected something was wrong? Did she know about my dream condition? She didn’t strike me as the mad scientist type, but the research department did. She could give the order and have them strap me to a table and poke through my memory region, right down to the—

 _To the_ _Sensory flow,_ I thought. _How could I have been stupid enough to forget_? If my dream was to be found anywhere, it’s in my S-Flow history.

Sensory flow, or S-Flow as it’s normally referred to, is what makes up an android’s memories. The algorithms operating how our five senses take in the world translate the experiences and sensations into the S-Flow language, which is interpreted into the usable medium that is our memories.

I remembered reading data on androids still receiving S-Flow despite being inoperable or unconscious all together. This meant that my S-Flow was still functioning during the entirety of my rest cycle.

“Pod, I need you to upload a copy of my S-Flow data for the past twelve hours directly to me.” That should have been more than enough history to analyze the entirety of my rest cycle S-Flow.

“Affirmative. Query: Why would Unit 9S be concerned with S-Flow when all sensory functions are operating at peak efficiency?”

“If the need arises for sensory maintenance, it’ll be a lot easier if I have a controlled S-Flow history to refer to.”

“Understood. Beginning upload.”

In came a notification signaling a transmission from command. We must have been nearing the target area.

“Operator 21O to 9S. I am sending you the landing coordinates. They should be appearing on your map as we speak.”

As promised, the map displayed a red circle thirty kilometers from our current position.

“Operator, that’s quite a ways from our mission area. Shouldn’t we be landing a bit closer?”

“Command does not want to run the risk of the enemy engaging and damaging your flight units, as they are still in their prototype stage.”

“I guess I understand. Wait, what about us and our safety?”

“Five of you are worth 1/14th of a flight unit. Operator 21O, out.”

My jaw hung open as I tried to process her blunt response. There must have been a mix-up when they were assigning operators to ground units, I swear.

“S-Flow history upload complete. Approaching target coordinates. Consider immediate descent.” The data 153 sent me appeared on the left side of my HUD before disappearing from my peripheral view.

I accepted 153’s suggestion and followed 2B’s flight unit down through the clouds.

-

With their auto-pilots engaged, the two flight units took off to the sky to meet back up with the Bunker, leaving the two of us in a small forest clearing. I would have watched them disappear back into the clouds, but I was dying to see the data 153 had uploaded to me. I put a couple of steps between me and 2B as she spoke with her pod and operator, and pulled up the data on a holo-screen.

It was as I expected, unorganized. S-Flow data was not written like a regular program. Everything moved horizontally, layering over each other. What was organized was which senses took priority. Normally sight and sound were the most pronounced and easiest to pick out while the other senses filled in the gaps behind them.

I filtered out any data where intensity was either normal or below, leaving large gaps in the S-Flow. It certainly narrowed it down, but it would still be a challenge to decipher a language as complicated as this. Thankfully we scanners weren’t designed just for show. Soon enough, I found the string of data I was looking for. It looked similar to S-Flow when an android’s visual or aural sensors are malfunctioning. The senses in the S-Flow argue before one takes priority over the other to compensate for the android’s condition. It’s a short process taking no more than five columns, or three seconds, of data. During my rest cycle S-Flow, I saw five hours and seventeen minutes of my senses arguing with each other, the same amount of time 153 said I ceased memory functions.

I found it. I had found my dream. My pulse increased and 153 made sure I was aware of it, but I didn’t care. My dream was no longer just a glitch. I could, technically, see it plain as day in front of me.

But I faced a new problem. It was indecipherable. The senses weren’t able to comprehend the dream, therefore they couldn’t decide how to prioritize themselves. It was impossible to pick out one sense from another to understand what each one had experienced. I decided to dub it ‘Dream Flow.’ Or D-Flow, for convenience.

“What do you have there?”

I jumped at 2B’s voice. I turned and saw her almost towering over me, arms crossed, and 042 over her right shoulder.

Did 042 rat me out? I was pretty sure combat models, no offense to them, lacked the capability to know what S-Flow is when they see it. Pods, I knew, did not have that problem.

042 was being rather quiet for a pod. Instead of answering 2B’s question for me, the pod kept a firm sight line on 153, something common during data exchanges between pods. I wondered what kind of conversation they were having.

“9S?”

I snapped out of it. “Uh. Just some research data. It’s gonna be a hike to the mission area, so I figured I’d be productive.”

“Is it mission related?”

“Well. No.”

“Keep it internal then.”

“But—“

“We aren’t in android territory. We can’t afford distractions that would compromise this mission.

“Fine.”

“Like you said, we have a hike ahead of us. Let’s get moving.”

There wasn’t much else I could get from the D-Flow data at the moment anyway. I closed out the holo-screens and followed 2B. How anyone could walk through a dense forest in heels like those, advanced calibrations or not, I may never know.

-

I’ll give myself credit. I lasted about twenty minutes before boredom started eating its way through me. There was so much plant life around that I had never seen before and just as much fauna to match. The rays of sunlight finding their way through the trees acted as spotlights for all of the best samples of foliage and life, and I couldn’t take the time to study any of it. At least I had someone to talk to.

“Say, 2B. Any chance you have a nickname you’d prefer to go by?”

“No.”

 _Well jeez, don’t talk my ears off or anything._ “Really? Nobody’s ever given you one? How about- Actually no that sounds weird, even in my head.”

“Alternate names are not necessary.”

“So you’ve never had another name to go by?”

2B’s walking pattern shifted for a brief moment, which is something I hadn’t seen before or considered possible. I guess heels and forests will never mix, no matter how precise the calibrations.

“No.”

“I see. You know, some of the other scanners have been calling me Nines. I don’t know where they got it from, but I kinda like it.”

No response. Still, it was better than talking to myself.

“If you wanted to call me Nines, I wouldn’t be against—“

“I will be referring to _you_ by _your_ designation.”

If her tone were any sharper, YoRHa wouldn’t need to waste resources on developing swords. I was prepared for reluctance, but not downright hostility towards the idea. “All right. 2B and 9S it is, I guess.”

“Warning: Nearby machine lifeforms detected to the east. Marking general location on map.” 042’s warning brought us to a halt. “Proposal: Investigate immediately.”

“Roger that. Stay close, 9S.”

“You got it.”

Using a nearby stream to mask our noise, we approached the side of a small cliff, being sure to stay well hidden behind the cliff’s edge. Sure enough, a group of machine lifeforms patrolled the forest floor several meters below in a clearing. Mostly small-fry but there were a few medium-sized bipeds mixed in, and a towering goliath biped. A standard grouping of machines.

The goliath biped was the only machine standing its position while the others centered their patrols around it. Its focus must have been directed to data sharing for the moment.

“Pod, mark the coordinates on the map for the scavenging teams and prepare to engage.”

“Affirmative. Activating short-range attack gear.”

2B’s pure white swords burnt into their levitating positions behind her back. My single darkened blade, Cruel Oath, followed suit. She unsheathed Virtuous Contract, the shorter of her two blades.

“Wait a second, 2B.” I put my hand on her wrist to ease her armed hand down. “See that machine?” I pointed to the goliath biped.

“What about it?”

“It’s acting as both a transmitter and a receiver, likely receiving data from other machines in the area. If I can hack into it while it’s receiving, there’s a chance I can get the locations of the other machine nests, making them much easier to find.”

“So you need a distraction?”

“Warning: If the machine lifeform is alerted to an android presence or eliminated, it is likely to block its connection to the local network of machine lifeforms.”

I pointed to 153, who took the words right out of my mouth.

 “Understood.”

“I’ll just need a minute or two. I’ll give you the signal when I’m done.” I moved to a slanted path leading around the cliff. “Or if I get into trouble. Whichever comes first.”

“9S.”

I turned back to 2B before dropping to the ground below.

“Be careful.”

I couldn’t suppress the smile growing on my face. Not that I really tried. “Don’t worry, 2B. I’m a scanner. I’m literally built for this kind of thing.” I broke our line of sight and started to forge a delicate path around the machines.

-

Getting around the machines was the easy part. The difficult part was finding a safe distance to begin the hacking process. With all of the machine lifeforms around, there was too much interference to start hacking from where I initially planned. I planted myself at the edge of the clearing facing the cliff side.

“All right. Hacking in—“

I caught a glimpse of an unaccounted for medium biped’s red eyes before the hacking module finished digging a way in. I dodged the strike, feeling its fist brush against my cheek as it followed through downward. Moving back, I unsheathed my sword and blocked its next strike. It took all I had to fight against the machine’s strength as it pushed me down to my knees by my sword.

It wasn’t long before the other machines spun around in my direction and began marching towards me with the same red glow in their eyes,

“2B!”

The ringing of fine metal pierced the air until Virtuous Contract nailed the machine’s arm to the ground.

The machines and I turned in unison to see 2B drop from the cliff and cleave a small-fry in two halves with Virtuous Treaty. She drove her left heel through the eye of another machine and tore it free length-wise, ripping out wires and gears with it. The other machines decided to go for the more immediate threat, leaving me with my original attacker.

Virtuous Contract burning away broke my gaze. Taking the opportunity, I drove my sword through the machine’s core before it could process its situation. There was no time to pull the sword out. I let it fall with the machine while I finished activating the hacking module. Soon enough I was surrounded by a white light as I was brought into the machine’s hacking space.

My personality data loaded, and as always the disorientation of weightlessness lasted but a second. I saw the connection to the local network in the process of being blocked off. With no time to lose, I hurried to the path before the connection was lost.

The machine’s firewall took charge and began its attack. The connection was closing too quickly for me to deal with the internal defenses. I needed an opening.

“Pod, fire on the goliath. It’ll force it to divert concentration.”

153’s voice echoed through hacking space. “Affirmative.”

It worked. The firewall’s defenses slowed down enough for me to pass through a gap in its pattern before the connection was sealed off.

The network’s pathway split into multiple paths, all leading to different connections that mapped out the areas the machine was in contact with. I copied the data and transferred it to the satellite map.

I noticed something odd about the connections. I focused on the data being received and transmitted, being careful to not disturb its path too much. With its horizontal movement and layered pattern, it dawned on me that I was looking at a primitive S-Flow.

It was known that machines possessed only two senses: sight and sound. But it was figured that the data was processed like a camera or a microphone that humans used to use. I never would have guessed that the machines could have perceived them as actual senses. Stranger yet, the two senses in the S-Flow were arguing with each other.

_Wait. Is this machine dreaming?_

The data mimicked the random pattern that is dream flow, but somehow the machine had been able to translate the D-Flow into a readable S-Flow which was being sent off to the local network in the area. I needed to know more, but there was only so much I could do in hacking space.

“Warning: Multiple machine lifeforms approaching. Unit 9S should consider evacuation of hacking space.”

Time in hacking space may be relative, but that doesn’t mean it stops in physical space. “Try to hold them off, Pod, I need a minute!” I began the extraction process to gather the machine’s dream.

“Warning. Pod fire is having little to no effect to discourage incoming machine lifeforms. Enemies at 30 meters.”

 _38%_ “Keep at it!” _62%_

“Enemies at 20 meters.”

_89%_

“Enemies at 10 meters.”

 _99%, 100%!_ “Disabling goliath’s motor functions!”

“Five meters.”

The goliath biped’s flow of motor data halted before crumbling around me. In another flash of white light, I brought myself back to physical space. I pulled my blade from the machine’s nearby corpse to strike away an advancing machine’s attack.

Too late.

The biped punched me into the path of the toppling goliath. I rolled out of the way and watched my attacker advance towards me, getting crushed by the goliath as it fell face first, breaking ground by its sheer weight. I saw the glowing eyes of the other machines emerge into the clearing. The clashing metal of 2B’s fight rang out behind me. I retreated to her before I could get swarmed and ran my sword through a machine trying to attack her from behind. 2B stood surrounded by torn metal and disabled machines parts.

The fallen goliath gave the machines advancing from my direction an obstacle to overcome. We ordered our pods to focus fire on anything trying to climb over it. We were left to focus on only two fronts next to the cliff side, back to back.

“Did you get what you wanted?” 2B kicked a machine towards a small group of them, knocking them off balance as she went in for the kill.

“Yeah, I marked the general locations of the other machine nests on the map.” I impaled two machines in one stroke. It was proving difficult to both hear and be heard over the battle.

“Enemy presence subsiding.” 042 returned to 2B’s side.

“Oh, finally!” The wave of enemies had slowed to almost nothing when I stabbed the last small-fry on my front.

“Negative. Multiple enemies approaching from the west.”

To the west was the cliff side. We looked up and saw nothing. Heard nothing. Nothing but leaves brushing against each other in the wind and the distant stream we took advantage of earlier.

Then the all too familiar screams outmatched the sounds of nature.

_Exploders._

Four cylinder-shaped silhouettes ran off of the side of the cliff, as their kamikaze programming dictated. The pods focused their fire, but failed to catch up to their descent. I still had a trick up my sleeve, almost literally.

I readied a pulse band around my wrist. A pulse band is a scanner’s last resort for unarmed combat, but its usefulness in providing emergency energy to another android when concentrated kept it from being regulated by our anti-friendly fire programs. Right now it may be the only thing to save 2B as the blast radius would be too big to escape by running.

Convincing myself it was for the better, I struck her side with my fist. The gold and brown sphere of energy output launched her several meters away. She wasted no time repositioning herself in midair.

To a combat model like 2B, the damage would be almost nothing. Still, I expected to see some look of betrayal or anger. Instead I was met with panic and her arm reaching out to me as she flew farther away, screaming my name.

The exploders hit the ground. Despite my attempt at retreat, their combined explosion hurled me into the side of the fallen goliath. Everything below my shoulders grew colder.

The motor functions in my neck must have been malfunctioning. My head twitched in every direction until it locked upwards, forcing me to look up to the sky straight at the sun. No brightness detection appeared. My visor must have been blown off. Not that it would have helped as my visual sensors slowly filled my vision with monochrome noise.

I heard 2B running towards me along with 153 shouting multiple warnings about my current state. I couldn’t focus on either as the sounds blended until they were muted all together.

I closed my eyes to block the light. On opening them, I stood in the desert once again.

2B stood in front of me, as still as the mountain behind her with only her hair, skirt and feathered sleeves giving in to the wind around us. Her delicate fingers hovered over my black box.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The "pulse band" is based off of 9S's unarmed melee in the game. I have no idea what it's actually called, nor could I find the name for it anywhere. If someone happens to know the name for it, please let me know. It would be much appreciated.


	3. Rendered Simulation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't really think of anything meaningful to put here. So welcome back, everyone!   
> Yes, including you first-timers. You were always here in spirit.   
> Nice to see you brought the rest of you along this time.

My rest cycle function must have activated itself to conserve energy, but this time I wasn’t given the option to choose a memory to relive. If I had the choice, I think I would have liked to experience 2B telling me to be careful again. I doubted whether any amount of concern existed in her until then. I guess that’s why I didn’t feel scared. She was here with me in my dream, with her fingers just centimeters over my black box. Come to think of it, I didn’t want to leave.

Once again my control over my body was nonexistent. I wanted to reach out to her. I could see her, but I needed to feel something real. Something to prove that I wasn’t alone.

My wish was granted, fulfilled by 2B herself. Her index finger closed the small gap separating it from my black box. Even through my coat the box was sensitive enough to her touch to heat up. The rest of her fingers soon followed, running straight lines from the center of the box’s exposed face to the edges to trace along where the black box met the skin. I forgot how sensitive the black box can be as shivers were sent to my legs to get them to collapse. Had my body not been locked I would have gladly fallen to my knees to be at her mercy.

But her touch was getting warmer. What became uncomfortable progressed to burning, then to scalding. Any sensation that had drawn me closer to her was replaced with instincts and reactions all fighting to pull me away. The tips of her fingers burned their way through my coat, then through my skin, melting and cauterizing my synthetic flesh as they went further into my body until they had a firm grip around my black box. I wasn’t allowed to scream.

I one effortless stroke, she tore my black box from its port in my chest, ripping out endo-flesh and port connections with it. Blood spilled down my torso from where the skin was now torn, and already I felt my non-essential functions shutting down. Despite no longer being attached to me, the fantastic heat in my black box took over my chest as it rose past operational temperatures, turning from black, to red, to a burning white in her fingers.

Finally, she spoke. “You deserve this. You earned this. This is your choice.”

_Choice? What choice?_

Her face hadn’t moved, not even her lips. Yet, two voices of 2B overlapped each other. One was violent, as if she was ready to draw more blood at a moment’s notice. The other felt apologetic, on the verge of tears. The wind picked up around us, kicking up more and more sand.

 “2B, please.” I knew I spoke, I felt it burn through my throat. But I couldn’t hear myself. I could only watch as my black box disintegrated into the desert sand and become swept up in the rising winds. The heat in my chest subsided, but now there was no hope to restore full power to my body.

2B was next, starting at her heels to her head she became a part of the desert. In the distance behind where she stood, the arch and entrance embedded in the mountain came into focus.

The ground shifted under my feet and the world brought the entire mountain closer to me at impossible speeds. Soon, the arch’s entrance swallowed me whole as the world continued to move me further inwards. The hallway of broken pillars and ancient torch mounts refused to end until the light that bled in from the entrance faded, leaving me in the dark until a light appeared ahead of me.

Then everything stopped. I was left in a broken room where sand covered every inch of floor space, with the only source of light being a hole in the ceiling where the Sun was able to invade the mountain’s interior. Without a viable power source, my motor functions fought to keep me upright. I wasn’t sure if I could even collapse when they inevitably lost.

I followed the sun’s light to the ground where the chunk of ceiling had fallen, by the looks of it, millennia ago. If I still had a black box it would have ceased its function. Embedded in the ceiling fragment were dozens of sword hilts with pure white blades pointing up to the light above. Among them was a 9S model, impaled by eight of the blades as if he had fallen onto them. His lifeless body still held the expressions of fear and pain, but most notable was confusion.

It was too much to take in and understand before I was stabbed from behind. I watched the curve of the blade arc upwards as it emerged from the center of my chest. It was a darkened blade, my blade. I caught my reflection in the blood-stained metal. Those weren’t my eyes.

I should have been in pain, but I could only smile. It was as if the weight of the mountain itself had been lifted from my shoulders. My arms loosened and my legs gave out from under me, leaving me to be supported only by the blade. I couldn’t help but laugh. I was dying, and I was happy about it.

I didn’t want to leave.

“Warning: Applying high energy surge to black box. Standing clear is advised.”

The sting of electricity shot from my black box port to every one of my systems and synthetic muscles. I would have screamed on as I shot up, but my jaw had clenched itself shut while the rest of my body converged on itself until the electricity ran its brief course.

I made desperate attempts to grab the blade that had pierced through my chest just moments ago, but my hands found nothing. There was no blade, nor were there any wounds to say one had existed in the first place.

“Did it work?”

“Affirmative. Defibrillation successful. Internal pressure of black box returning to normal parameters. Unit 9S’ black box is reaching standard operating levels.” Arcs of electricity danced between the fingers of 153’s larger appendages as the pod moved from my chest.

My visual sensors were stabilizing and my muscles became less tense with every breath I took. My eyes followed 153 to the left until a figure seated on a cot came into view.

“2B?”

“9S.” Her voice did not match the two contrasting, emotion-driven voices I heard in my dream. Instead it was a voice that my aural sensors took pleasure in recalibrating to.

“Where are we?”

“This is the maintenance tent of the nearby Resistance salvaging camp. After the arrival of previously notified scavenging teams, Unit 2B requested aid for Unit 9S and was brought here six hours and two minutes ago.”

The more the world around me came into focus the more sense was brought to 153’s answer. The cloth roof and walls reinforced with sheets of metal, along with the rows of cots similar to mine, marked the simple and efficient make-shift style of a Resistance camp. At the foot of my cot, my visor hung off of the side of a cart that carried a decent selection of maintenance chemicals and unused fine surgical tools. The shelving units lining the walls housed boxes and jars of stronger chemicals used for emergency internal maintenance. I felt along my torso and neck where some of the same equipment had been used on me. I will definitely be asking for new skin-plating at the Bunker when the mission was over.

“9S, what happened?”

“I think I powered down after the blast.”

“Your pod said you ceased memory functions a few hours ago, and your black box just started to die with no reason.”

I looked down to the center of my chest. My coat had been opened to reveal my black box, which sat secured in its port. While the air hitting the cube’s exposed face was more than welcomed, I buttoned the coat back up. Keeping the box exposed to the elements on the surface was not considered ideal for keeping it in prime condition.

“9S. Tell me what happened.” Her firm tone reminded me that she still held charge during our mission.

“I’m not sure. Might just be a malfunction. I’ll have to look into it more.” I don’t know if she suspected anything, though if she did, she didn’t seem like the type to wait for a confession to bring up her suspicions.

I wanted to tell my entire dream to her more than anything. But all I was left with were vague flashes of images replaying themselves in an attempt to remember what came next. My black box heating up, 2B saying I made a choice, and my blade running through me were all I could comprehend. Once again, it was too abstract to be stored correctly.

I felt different about the dream itself this time. While I still wanted to understand it, I couldn’t deny the attraction I felt to the act of dreaming. I needed it, no, craved it. It was tempting to re-engage my rest cycle once more to try and initiate another dream sequence, but now I understood its danger to me as my black box almost called it quits this time.

 I questioned whether I could live without dreaming to avoid another incident. My black box felt hallow again. I recognized the sort of feeling from back on the Bunker when I imagined not being paired with 2B.

“Are your hands okay?”

“Huh?” The temptations settled, replaced with 2B’s presence. I looked down at my hands pressed against my chest, the gloves had been removed some time ago. I hadn’t realized that they balled into fists, tight enough to see the framework underneath the knuckles. I pulled them away and let my fingers loosen themselves.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think so. They might still be recovering. They do have more complex motor functions than our other body parts. My gloves, are they—“

“I kept them here.” 2B revealed a pair of gloves from behind her and held them out. I can’t say I expected this sort of concern from someone who wouldn’t answer my questions with more than one word just hours ago. In all honesty, I expected her to continue with the mission and let my back-up data load into another body in the bunker.

She leaned forward, bringing my gloves closer for me. I was confused on why my systems began targeting her, but my threat detections overloaded before I could question it further.

Before I could register my actions, the pre-programmed reactions in me took over. Prioritizing flight responses over fight, they rolled me onto the ground and on my back to put my cot in between the two of us. My hands covered the front of my black box to hide it away, and my legs pushed against the ground until I backed into a shelving unit, rattling the glass jars and supply boxes on it.

My breathing accelerated and fought against the regulated air intake patterns. “Pod, what’s happening to me?”

“Unknown. Increase in fear functionality detected. Abnormal threat detection towards Unit 2B detected. Alert…” 153’s voice was taken over by the waves of threat notifications.  

I didn’t want to believe that I saw her as a threat. What I wanted held no ground as my view was taken over by my instinct protocols, shouting warnings and messages best suited to my survival across my HUD while my logic functions overlapped them as quickly as they appeared with its counter suggestions.

The uncontrollable disagreements destabilized my vision into static and noise while my mind fought itself, hurt itself, over whether 2B was a threat or an ally with an endless barrage of notifications and suggestions telling me to run from her, to trust her, to hurt her, to befriend her, to kill her, to love her, to—

“SHUT UP!” I threw my hands to my head, digging the heels of my palms into my eyes for all the good it would do. Very little good, it seemed. The messages didn’t stop, instead their onslaught only sped up even after my vision had been completely taken over.

 I couldn’t focus. There was nothing for my logic circuits to understand, nothing for them to hold on to as my mind tore itself apart. I kept screaming, begging for it to end. My voice itself faded into the background. I’m not sure if I was even being coherent. I wasn’t sure of anything.

Then her voice broke through.

“9S!”

_2B._

I looked up. For a split second there was nothing but the two of us.

Her visor was held in her hands. It was the first time I ever saw her eyes. I would never have figured they could look so. I guess so emotional.

That’s where I needed to focus, her eyes. It was something real, sincere even. The longer I stared at her, the closer my logic circuits came to creating equilibrium with my threat detection. My vison was given an opportunity to stabilize, allowing me to reattach and anchor myself in the world. My breathing found a stable pattern, I know because I could hear it. The shouting disappeared, letting 153’s voice fade in.

The pod had been listing off a series of alert messages and warnings of my destabilizing functions. “Analysis: The threat detection protocol in Unit 9S has re-calibrated itself to an unsafe sensitivity. It is advisable that Unit 9S attempt internal self-hacking maintenance to restore all functions to acceptable parameters.”

“G-Got it.” Using the shelf behind me, I stood up. My legs gave out for a moment as I struggled to find my balance.

“9S, are you—“

“Warning: It is advisable that Unit 2B refrain from attempting proximity engagement or physical contact with Unit 9S.”

As much as I hated to agree, 042 was right. It seemed that my threat detection was not willing to tell the difference between attempts at hospitality or hostility. 2B took a step back, I assumed for good measure, as I eased back into my cot.

“It’s fine, 2B. Really. Just need to reset a few things is all. It’s not your fault, I promise.” I smiled, trying to look more convincing than I sounded. I don’t think it worked. She wouldn’t make eye contact with me.

“Alert: New orders have been issued from Command. Replaying audio-only message.”

042 opened a screen to replay said message. It was sent by 2B’s operator, 6O, by the sound of it. “After reviewing Unit 2B’s report, Unit 9S will be returning to the Bunker for further maintenance and, if necessary, light-to-moderate data overhaul.”

That didn’t sound too bad.

“As per protocol, 9S’ memories of the battle will be stripped for review and, if all is well, re-uploaded. 2B is to continue with the current mission. A flight unit will be made available for Unit 9S at the enclosed coordinates when the Bunker reaches a more direct position in orbit in fifteen minutes.”

There was a brief pause.

“I really hope you two are okay. Operator 6O, out.”

042 closed the screen. “End transmission. Coordinates received and marked at two kilometers to the north east.”

Stripping my memories? I wasn’t familiar with that protocol. Maybe it was a more direct way to scan for virus contamination in the memory regions, one with less risk of infecting other units? Under any normal circumstances I would be willing to comply in my condition. I could always find out more later on. However, if they found any trace of my dream in my permanent storage, or in the S-Flow, it is more than likely they will mark it off as a logic virus of some kind. With the S-Flow data I extracted from the machine, I imagine it would be hard for them to think I was anything but contaminated. In order to contain the “virus,” I would become a blank slate again aside from my default personality data.

But what if it kept up? What if the next 9S also had dreams? And the next? They would determine my unit defective and decommission me by removing my layout and personality data from the automated production routines, then replace me with the next unit model they’ll create.

I would become the closest thing an android can be to dead. I would be forgotten. 153 would be tasked with another android. 21O would be assigned to another ground unit, god help whoever that’ll be. And 2B.

2B would be assigned a new partner. I’ve only known her for less than a day, but she wouldn’t forget me, would she?

I realized she hadn’t said anything after the message ended. Instead she had seated herself back down on her cot, staring at the visor clutched in her hands. The tension in the fabric looked to be nearing its breaking point.

“Hey, 2B—“

“I’ll arrange an escort for you.” She stood up, securing her visor to her face and walked out of the tent with 042, not even giving a vague farewell. It was like the concerned side of her had never existed.

“It is advisable that Unit 9S begin self-maintenance procedures and—“

“I know.”

I needed answers about my dream before everything was taken away from me, and I knew where to get them. I laid flat on my back and let my hacking space envelop me.

They wouldn’t get near my memories. I wouldn’t let them.

-

My personality data was met with weightlessness once again. I steadied myself on the edge of a system plain overlooking an area of my hacking space filled with rows and columns of towering data pillars.

“Unit 9S should proceed to the central function systems and begin a reset procedure to any—“

“Pod, open the previously uploaded S-Flow history as well as the data I extracted from the machine during the battle.”

“Warning: If Unit 9S does not initiate maintenance procedures—“

“I don’t have time for maintenance. I need you to open up the data I asked for.”

“Unit 9S’ past and current fixation on S-Flow has reached a concerning stage and considered self-destructive. It should be brought to the attention of—“

“Pod, you are going to open the S-Flow and extracted data. _That is an order_.”

153’s response felt delayed. “Affirmative.”

Two pillars slid out from their positions and moved towards me. They gradually took the form of a usable medium of data before reaching my edge of the system plain. I always compared it to larger versions the holo-screens used by us scanners in physical space. I had to step back to get both screens in my field of view.

Once again I watched my D-Flow argue with itself as the horizontal lines of senses forced themselves over each other. I studied and compared the similarities between it and the machine’s S-Flow.

“All right, we need to understand how the machine was able to translate its D-Flow into S-Flow and use the method on my own D-Flow.”

“Affirmative. It appears that the machine lifeform created its own algorithm to translate the irregular S-Flow. However the language it is translated to is not recognized as any spoken or programmed language.”

“It’s a start. What’s it recognized as?”

The screen containing the machine’s S-Flow stuttered as 153 scanned further in. “Further analysis shows that the format of the language is similar to an ancient way of communication known as Slow Scan TV.”

“Never heard of it.”

“Slow Scan TV, or SSTV, was used to send and receive two dimensional still images over ancient radio frequencies. The machine has altered the method for the frequency to render a third dimension to the image.”

Ancient radio frequencies? The machines were more primitive than I thought. Then again they managed to translate their D-Flow into something usable, and here I am learning from them. So what does that make me?

“Pod, any chance you can run the same method to translate my D-Flow into a three dimensional static image?”

“The machine lifeform’s algorithm is only suitable for visual and aural sensory functions. All other sensory functions will be omitted.”

“Fine by me.”

“Warning: Translating the irregular S-Flow using the machine lifeform’s method contains a moderate-to-high chance at damaging Unit 9S’ personality Data.”

“Make it happen.” There was no time for second thought or hesitation. Not when the answers were finally within reach.

“Affirmative. Stand By.” Once again, another delayed response. Was 153 starting to malfunction?

I didn’t have time to find an answer. Countless amounts of shrieking, earsplitting tones and clicks filled my hacking space in less than a second. The system plain shook as if it threatened to break apart beneath me. I was forced me to my knees and I clamped my hand to my ears. There was no point in the effort, it’s impossible to mute any sound in hacking space without tampering with the aural sensory control and voice systems.

Over and over I screamed for 153 to stop the process, but even I couldn’t hear myself over the deafening sounds. How did I expect 153 to hear me? I said I wanted answers, and aural torture was going to be the only way to get them. I fell to my side and closed my eyes as tight as possible. The answers were here, I just had to endure.

My personality data was losing strength. I couldn’t keep my hands to my head. They fell onto the system plain with me. The hacking space filled itself with static noise until it blacked out. I followed suit.

-

“Personality data restore for Unit 9S, successful. Initiating start up procedures. Welcome back, Unit 9S.”

The barrage of frequency tones was no longer present. I opened my eyes and caught my breath. The system plain was gone, replaced with dunes of sand with the mountain in the distance. I caught a glimpse of the Sun overhead against the gray skies of hacking space. A still image of my dream was being simulated around me.

Over the course of less than a minute I was granted movement to my fingers, then my hands, followed by my arms and legs. Soon I had control over my personality data once again. I stood up and took in the finer details around me. The sand dunes, the mountain, everything had been compressed to simpler shapes and polygons to be compatible with the hacking space environment, and the colors had been desaturated. From what I could see, it was a 1:1 scale of my first dream.

I couldn’t contain the smile stretching over my face. “Pod, I need you to compare the surroundings and landmarks to pinpoint the coordinates of that mountain on Earth.”

“Cannot comply. The rendered image is too abstract to compare to any geographical data.”

_No._ “Pod, please. You have to try.”

“Cannot comply. The rendered image…” I tuned out 153’s repeated statement.

This can’t be it. This can’t be a dead end. There had to be something, some constant between my dream and the world. Sand dunes change over time, and the one landmark, the mountain, didn’t work.

“Pod, how much data is there on mountains in deserts in the YoRHa databases?”

“At a continuous pace, it would take Unit 9S five years, one month, two weeks, and two days to cycle through all of the data YoRHa has obtained under the keywords ‘mountains in deserts’.”

“I don’t have that kind of time!”

I was close, so close. I needed to concentrate, there needed to be something. I couldn’t think with the Sun’s light in my eyes. What was the point of simulating it anyway? It was useless, served no purpose in hacking space. It—

_The Sun_. I looked up to the simulated point of light standing in for the Sun in the hacking space’s sky. It may have just been an image, but the intense brightness was all the same. It never left the sky in physical space, and it certainly wasn’t going anywhere in here.

“Pod, I need you to calculate the Sun’s solar position.”

“Affirmative. Retrieving solar zenith angle.”

A line traced itself from the ground next to me straight to the Sun’s center.

“Zenith angle calculated at 66.41°. Calculating solar azimuth and elevation.”

I watched the azimuth line trace itself along the horizon while the solar elevation line extended from the Sun down towards the horizon until it intersected with the azimuth line.

“Solar azimuth calculated at 253.38°. Solar elevation calculated at 23.59°.”

Thank goodness the Earth was tidal-locked with the Sun, otherwise these calculations would have been useless. “Now analyze where on the Earth’s surface it’s possible for the Sun to be in that _exact_ position in the sky.”

“Affirmative. Using current data to determine a location. Compensating for elliptical orbit. The desired location is at the coordinates 37° North and 139 ° East. The coordinates match a known desert region in the Bunker’s geographical database.”

_A desert. What a coincidence._ “How far is it from my current position?”

“The exact coordinates are located 1389.62 kilometers to the east from Unit 9S’ current position.”

Of course it wasn’t going to be down the road.

“Alert: Bunker in direct orbital position. A flight unit is being sent down to the surface for Unit 9S.”

_Perfect._ “Save those coordinates and pull me out.”

“Warning: Unit 9S has not performed the necessary maintenance—“

“Pod, I’ll worry about that later. Activate my body.”

“Affirmative.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it wasn't for Portal 2 I would never have known that SSTV existed. I wonder what I would have gone with if that were the case.  
> Let's try not to think about it.


	4. Take Flight

“Proposal: Unit 9S should reconsider his decision to desert YoRHa.”

“Wait, what?” I fumbled the knot on my visor. It slipped from my face and draped over my boots. “We’re- I’m not- What makes you think I’m deserting YoRHa?”

“Recent data collected has led to the conclusion that Unit 9S will choose to disregard orders on returning to the Bunker and instead attempt to reach the coordinates previously collected.”

I picked the visor from the ground.153’s deduction protocols were more optimized than I thought. “I’m not deserting YoRHa.” I tightened the knot and flattened the visor to my face. Technically speaking, it was more of a detour, but I doubt Command would see it that way.

The gloves were a little singed on the fingertips, but they slid on just fine.

“Query: Why does Unit 9S wish to desert YoRHa?”

“For the last time, I’m not-” I stopped myself, pinching the bridge of my nose. There was no point in trying to correct 153. Desertion was the only way the pod’s programing could understand my intentions. “I needed some information about my dream condition. I thought I could use the machine’s S-Flow to help me, and all I got was a location.” I tightened the strap on my pack. “There might be an answer at that location, but I’m only getting it if I go there.” With everything set, I made for the tent’s exit.

“Further Query: Would the current mission captain, Unit 2B, approve of this action?”

I flinched at 153’s question, and like an invisible set of chains it wouldn’t let me go any farther. It was the question I avoided asking myself.

She was the first thing I looked for when I pulled out of hacking space. Nowhere to be found, 153 stated that she had not even stopped by after her departure. The best case scenario was that she’s waiting outside to give me a final farewell. My optimism on the idea forgot to include itself.

Emotions are prohibited, I get that. But the way she shut them off, as if disregarding me and everything that took place, didn’t feel far from abandonment. There had to be more to the moment she let her emotions slip. I couldn’t understand it, and it was frustrating. I guess a malfunctioning scanner wasn’t worth the time or emotion to her.

Even if she was here, it would be the last time I would see her before returning to the Bunker, and returning to the Bunker meant forfeiting my memories, experiences, everything that has made me who I am up to this point. My only purpose now was to understand my dream.

So, would 2B approve of my actions?

“Who cares.”

-

The salvaging camp’s operation was a busy setup without a lot of room for mishap. The camp’s personnel, which unlike YoRHa held a much more balanced ratio of male to female android frames, stayed on the move with their supply schedule to follow and metal salvaging quotas to meet. Stepping out of the maintenance tent, the scrapper crews with their circular saws digging their way through dead machine metal caught my attention with both their metallic screeching and flying sparks. How these people ever got used to that was going to stay beyond me.

“Kid, watch it!”

A hand gripped my shoulder and pulled me out of the way of a supply truck driving through the camp’s main road, leaving clouds of dust and dirt in the air.

“Dammit, kid, you really need to- Wait, you’re 9S, aren’t you?”

I jerked my shoulder away to look at my savior who had little regard for personal space, a female-framed android by the looks of it. With the goggles hanging around her neck, fingerless gloved hands, and heavy attire not designed to camouflage with the forest surroundings, it was safe to say this unit was also not a local. My guess was that she was one of the transporters from a colder environment near the darker side of the planet.

“Um, yeah.”

“Ah, right! You’re the YoRha type that the other one was talking to me about. Yeah, she wanted me to accompany you.”

“2B?”

“To be your escort. Y’know, get you from here to wherever without dying? She said you knew this.”

“No, I mean is 2B around?”

She tilted her head like I had spoken a made up language before she widened her eyes, coming to the obvious realization. “Oh! You mean- Right, right. I forgot you guys use those weird names. Speaking of names, they call me Motor by the way.”

And she says _we_ have weird names.

“She said something about a mission and needing to finish it. Took off towards machine territory about ten minutes ago.” She pointed down to the other end of the camp’s road leading towards the forest not too far in the distance.

“Oh.” Maybe she will forget me.

“I understand you’re headed in the opposite direction?”

“Affirmative.” 153 displayed a map with a red dot marking the flight unit’s landing area.

“Oh, fancy. Yeah, that’s near the road I’ll be taking. I can drop you off here.” She pointed to the peak of a curve in the road. “That’ll shave off a little over one, maybe one-and-a-half kilometers for you, but I’m afraid you’ll be on your own after that. Machine activity was near minimal there on the way in. Shouldn’t be a problem for a YoRHa type like you, considering…”

Without 2B around, the temptations to dream crept back into my mind with the assurance that everything would be all right when I wake up again, but the past has proven that my chances of waking up from a dream may be slim. I’m not sure how many defibrillation a black box can take. I wasn’t keen on finding out first hand.

As if the temptations had voices of their own, I could hear them whisper to me, promising answers to sooth my curiosity. It would be so easy. Just activate the rest cycle function and the answers will be given without hesitation.

And then what? Die and wake up with no recollection of the past day and be without answers? No, I won’t do this their way.

They didn’t like that, and they responded with outbursts of pain through my head. The temptations were no longer trying to lure me in with gentle promises, instead such promises were replaced with yelling and threats of pain and internal torture. I couldn’t give in, otherwise this small period of time that is my life would have meant nothing.

“I said no!”

Motor put her hands up and took a step back. “Hey, kid, take it easy. Do you want to tag along or not? You’re confusing me here.”

My palms were pressed against my temples. I brought them down, feeling them tremble and ball up against my legs. “Y- Yeah. I’m sorry. Maintenance side-effects can be frustrating.”

“Oh, don’t I know it. You do alright in tight spaces?”

“Normally.”

“Good. Meet me at the loading area, third supply truck from the left. You’ll see it, it’s the six wheeled one with snow tires. Yours truly needs to finish the _ever so holy_ paperwork the cretins keep griping to me about. See ya’ soon, kid.” She left for a tent on the other side of the road and turned around before pulling open the tent’s entrance. “If anyone asks, I didn’t say that.” She continued inside.

-

“…And so I wanted to tell her ‘No. I don’t care how tamed the moose is, you’re not keeping it in the back of the truck,’ but I don’t argue with someone that carries a weapon that stands taller than them, that’s just common sense. I’m telling ya’, her sword was basically a giant rectangle with a handle slapped on one end. I’m surprised she hasn’t won the war for us with a piece like that. Now I’m not too familiar with weapons myself, I tend to just run over the smaller machines with the truck here. I have used a firearm before, but it doesn’t have the same effect as watching the scrap metal fly over the hood, ya’ know? Though cleaning the grill out afterwards is pain in the ass, I’ll tell you that for free. Like, oh man, this one time…”

_So that’s why they call her ‘Motor’._

I don’t know when I tuned out her rambling, though I know it wasn’t out of boredom or annoyance. I’ve only read about ground-based vehicles, and this was my first time in one of any kind. It was nowhere near as fast as a flight unit, and it was much more restricted in movement, but there was something about watching the scenery pass by at an impressive speed from a perspective that wasn’t a bird’s eye. It was almost hypnotizing.

“Hey, kid, anyone home?”

“Huh?” I shook away my trance.

“I said you don’t talk much, do ya’?”

I hadn’t realized it, but it felt out of place to be on the less talkative side of the conversation, though I did have something I wanted to say. “I’d prefer if you didn’t call me that.”

“Hm? What is it?”

“Calling me a kid. It’s just the way I’m designed.”

“I mean, fair enough. Got anything you’d like to be called other than, uh, it’s 9S right?”

“9S works just fine.”

‘Nines’ did come to mind, but it didn’t feel right letting Motor call me that.

“Ever had another name to go by?”

“No.”

I stared over the top of 153, who I kept in my lap for the ride. It was impossible to not compare the similarities of the conversation to the one I had with 2B in the forest.

“Ok then. 9S, this is your stop.” Motor wasn’t one to play nice with the pedals judging from how quickly the truck stopped. Whoever invented the seatbelt must have had her in mind.

I unfastened said belt and opened the passenger door, letting 153 outside first. The pod waited patiently by the side of the road as I climbed out myself.

Something held me back, turning me around to face her. Motor was going to be the last person I could talk to and trust to any extent. I needed to know if my condition was localized. It didn’t hurt to ask.

“Do you dream?”

“I’m sorry?”

I didn’t expect her to get it on the first try. “Do you dream at all?”

“Well, yeah. Usually I do it to help memorize routes and such. We’re supposed to get new supply routes soon anyway, and-“

“No, I mean like. Do you ever experience, I don’t know, things that shouldn’t happen because they’re just illogical, or that you don’t want to believe, during a rest cycle?”

Motor’s expression hadn’t changed, only her eyes moved from side to side until she shrugged. “I don’t think so. I’m not sure I understand what you’re getting at. You sure you’re okay?”

“It’s fine.” For now, I wasn’t entirely sure about it myself either. “Thanks.”

“No problem. Be careful out there.”

I leapt from the side of the vehicle onto the dirt road and closed the door. The truck’s gears shifted, letting it roll onwards. After a few seconds, it disappeared with the curved road behind a dense group of trees. All that was left was the dust and dirt it kicked up on its way out.

“Coordinates marked at 412 meters to the north east. Flight unit arrival estimated to occur in seven minutes.”

“Got it.”

-

Leaving a condensation trail behind it, the flight unit broke through the last layer of clouds and assumed the mobile configuration before touching down a few meters in front of me. 153 hooked into the pod compartment while I locked myself into the frame of the unit.

Multiple holo-screens activated in front of my face. All of the controls and routines took a red shade to signal that I was locked out and did not have access to them. It wasn’t entirely expected, but I remembered the Commander’s less than subtle suspicion towards me. I wouldn’t be surprised if this was her order. The auto-pilot warmed the engines and assumed the unit’s arrow configuration before pointing the nose to the sky.

21O’s notification request appeared on the center screen. I put on my best poker face.

“Operator 21O to Unit 9S. Please confirm the current status of your flight unit.”

“Sure thing, all systems appear to be at normal parameters.”

“And please confirm that the auto-pilot’s navigational command has been received.”

I enlarged the screen that held the command and memorized its location in the central routines. “Yep. It’s here.”

“Affirmative, activating the command.”

Pulsing twice, the command communicated with the auto-pilot to carry out its orders. To be honest, I was a bit sad that I wasn’t going to get to see the Mk I Ho229s where this entire process wouldn’t be necessary. The engines roared to life, ready to unleash the force necessary to escape the Earth’s gravity.

“You’re flight unit will arrive at the Bunker in an estimated fifteen to twenty minutes.”

“What, no ‘have a safe flight’?”

“Operator 21O, out.”

At least some things stay consistent. Her picture disappeared once she broke the connection.

The engines fired, sending the flight unit upwards. My body fought against the G-forces as the flight unit neared escape velocity. As much as I enjoyed the sensation, this wasn’t the time to take it in.

I booted up the hacking module by exploiting the backdoor that R&D used in these prototype flight units. I discovered it when I went digging through the unit’s systems on my first flight to see how these marvels of engineering worked. I never thought I’d need to use it.

-

The firewalls weren’t too impressive, but they made up for their predictable patterns with great numbers of anti-intruder data. It took a decent amount of concentration to breach past the dense security layers, but I was able to complete a break-in through the backdoor.

Despite being a prototype, the flight unit’s system was a complex one with a constant flow of routines speaking to one another and passive functions keeping the system from falling apart. I hitched a ride on a pathway by integrating my personality data with a data plain to smuggle me past any foreign-data detection code. I’d rather not set off a secondary security response and halt everything. I never dug deep enough to know what the fail-safe for the prototype flight units are, but knowing the R&D team there wouldn’t be a lot of me left.

On reaching central functions, the data plain dispersed as the different strings of data were filtered by their ports, leaving my personality data on the edge of the system plain. In front of me far out of my reach was a colossal, rotating sphere covered with dozens of evenly spaced circular openings for data to rush in and out from. A trench expanded the entire length of its equator. What held it in place was a bright, cylindrical beam that pierced through the poles and extended vertically deep into hacking space.

Certainly an object of celestial proportions by hacking space standards, this was the hub for central functions. Any function, not considered passive, being activated passes through the sphere and is kept inside while in use. The auto-pilot command had to be in there.

Forging an access key wasn’t hard, in fact I’ve done it in the past once before. The only hard part was getting it to be accepted. The key had to be written in a certain way to fit the acceptance port, and it seemed that this port wasn’t as complex as the last one. No complaints from me.

“Pod, you’re being awfully quiet. Shouldn’t you be telling me that this is against orders, or something?”

“From data gathered during previous exchanges with Unit 9S, it has been determined futile to attempt discouragement towards future actions.”

I paused, taking note of a thought that crossed my mind. “You wouldn’t abandon me, would you?”

“This Tactical Support Unit is assigned to support and protect Unit 9S. It is impossible for this pod to quote, abandon, end quote, Unit 9S.”

I guess it’s better than nothing. “Thank you, Pod.”

“Acknowledged.”

I finished adding the last lines of code before sending the key off towards the hub. The equator of the sphere pulsed, lighting up and fading out, before accepting the key.

Bisecting on the equator, the sphere opened to reveal a smaller white sphere, the hub’s core. Rays of light extended from it and formed into a screen which bent into the shape of a semi-circle as it projected around me. I was allowed to cycle through the functions that were being utilized. The auto-pilot, of course, was one of them.

The auto-pilot function opened to show the data flow inside it. The order sent from Command sat above the rest of the data, letting the auto-pilot feed off of it for further orders. I reconstructed the order to tell the auto-pilot to shut down and let the pilot assume the emergency manual mode.

Once accepted, the function closed and returned to its spot on the screen. The screen itself was deconstructed and retracted back to the core and the hub sealed itself once again.

“Warning: Auto-pilot has entered a shutdown state. Without a functioning auto-pilot, chances of reaching the Bunker are minimal. Proposal: Unit 9S should engage manual control over the flight unit.”

“Good idea.”

After pulling out of hacking space, I took control of the flight unit and set a beeline course to the coordinates where, with any luck, I would find answers to my dream.

-

“Alert: Another transmission has been sent from Command. It is advisable that Unit 9S acknowledge said transmission.”

“Let it time out like the others.” Traveling east, the body of water separating an elongated island and a large continent was long behind me. Command first tried to contact me when I crossed the borders of the island. That was about twenty minutes ago and already I was well inland. The satellite’s imagery detail was less than optimal, so I kept below the clouds to make spotting landmarks easier. I started to fly over desert terrain a little over seven minutes ago.

“Negative, this transmission is forcing a channel to Unit 9S’ flight unit. Audio and visual feed incoming.”

The center screen was taken over by 21O’s feed. Its picture and sound lacked in quality, as it was a forced connection. “Operator 21O to Unit 9S. Are you receiving this transmission?”

There was no avoiding it now. “Loud and clear, Operator. What’s up?”

“Command has been trying to notify you of an error in your flight pattern. Your angle has gone off course by 108°.”

“Oh, really?” Feigning confusion was harder than I thought. “I’m guessing that’s a bad thing.”

“It’s even worse when it’s deliberate.”

 _Crap._ “I, uh. I’m sure it is.”

“9S, we were able to gain access to your flight unit’s systems through its satellite link. We noticed that central functions had been tampered with, and your data’s signature was found. Return to the previous course set to the Bunker, or you will be considered, and treated as, a deserter of YoRHa.”

“I can’t do that, Operator.”

“9S, this is your final warning.”

“I said I can’t! I need—“

I was caught off guard by her silence, of all things. My refusal should have been enough for her to cut me off as usual. Instead her face stayed on the screen, waiting for me to finish. Her unusual patience to hear what I had to say was disconcerting. My cynicism brought up the idea that she was only looking for something to mark on the report. When has she ever actually cared about what I had to say?

“I can’t, Operator. I’m sorry.”

21O broke her eye contact with me through the screen, choosing to look down. “Goodbye, 9S.” It was the first time I could recall her statue-like demeanor giving way to anything else.

“Oper—“

Her screen closed, and the flight unit’s connection to the Bunker was permanently severed.

I tried a re-connection. “Operator?”

No response, though I’m not sure what I expected. I closed the empty communications screen. Knowing that 21O no longer had an eye on me left me feeling alone. I didn’t realize until now how much I appreciated her presence until now, despite it being in brief moments and coming off as uptight and bland. There was something about her perpetual level headedness that I admired, and I was never going to see it again. Worse yet, my last memory of her will always be that calm exterior cracking, showing something I wasn’t sure how to place.

I tried pushing it to the back of my head, but I knew this feeling wasn’t going away. I was ready to sit in silence for the rest of my flight.

“Alert: Multiple Mk I Ho229 Flight Units disengaging stealth functions.”

“Wait, mark what?” I switched the center screen to utilize the rear cameras. Two flight units lowered themselves through the clouds. “Dammit! How long have they been there?”

“Unknown.”

They opened fire with an outstanding amount of ordinance. The rate of fire must have been at least double of what my flight unit is capable of.

Despite my attempts at maneuvering in unpredictable patterns, four rounds hit the left wing of my unit causing only surface damage. I already initiated a dive before 153 made the suggestion to evade.

They were nothing like I had ever seen before. The angular design only added to their intimidation, as if being visibly armed to the teeth with symmetrical machine cannons and missile payloads wasn’t enough to get the point across. Worse yet, I was hitting my maximum speed and my pursuers hadn’t lost an inch of distance. While I’m in fourth gear, they’re barely pulling into second.

I continued to dive, doing what I could to avoid taking on more damage. “Pod, why aren’t the offensive systems engaging?”

“FFCS controls have been removed from this flight unit. NFCS controls remain intact.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“Negative.”

Now it was obvious this was the Commander’s order. Programmed to be proficient in strategy and leadership, it didn’t surprise me that she saw this coming.

In order to engage my NFCS I would need to assume the flight unit’s mobile configuration, but I would end up trading my speed for maneuverability, and right now I needed all the speed I could get.

I pulled my flight unit up before I could collide with the desert. I leveled out less than ten meters from the ground and kicked up sand from the taller sand dunes. The two other flight units mimicked me, somehow appearing more graceful. Whatever I did, they could do better. Their barrage of fire continued.

“Pod, get ready to boost my hacking module range. Use the excess power meant for the FFCS.”

“Affirmative.”

I initiated the hacking module, filtering it through the onboard communications broadcaster to target the flight unit on the left. A shock ran through my systems, breaking my concentration. Another three pelts landed on my right wing.

“Analysis: hostile flight units are blocking access to incoming signals without clearance.”

“How can I get past it?”

“It is impossible for Unit 9S to breach into the hostile unit’s systems.”

“ _Shit!_ ”

Two more rounds tore off pieces of the exterior plating from my right wing.

“Proposal: Find cover.”

“In the middle of a desert?”

“Scans show an old world structure to the north. It may be possible for Unit 9S to seek cover at said structure.”

“On it.” I pointed the flight unit’s nose to the north. The structure appeared in the distance, and already the two units were onto me and ceased fire, choosing to gain speed. The lack of effort their engines needed was almost embarrassing.

The rightmost unit paralleled with me while the other hung back and shifted east. The one on my right did the same and opened fire, forcing me to turn to the left at their pace. The unit from behind opened fire as well, both creating walls of ordinance for the other to push me into. The edges of my wings were being clipped apart as the walls closed together.

Without a lot of options, I broke my speed, pointing the flight unit’s nose upward and cutting the engine power to just enough to keep me in the air. I rolled the unit to reposition myself to face north again and almost overloaded the engines. With an explosive force the flight unit shot forward, putting pressure on me until my own mass matched the speed of the unit’s.

I was hoping it would take longer for them to regain their composure, but I had only bought myself a second of flight time before they were on my tail once again.

Being able to make out the finer details of the old world structure on my approach, I understood it to be a refinery. What it refined didn’t matter to me right now, I just needed to make it to have something even resembling a chance of survival.

The entire refinery was constructed in the shape of a circle, spanning for hundreds of meters in every direction comprised of rusted pipes, broken catwalks, and concrete towers and smokestacks. At its center was a single behemoth of a smokestack protruding through a rectangular base made strictly out of pipes and girders framing its outside. The same pipes seem to spread and multiply outward throughout the entire refinery to form similar, smaller structures. Most of the towers scattered around had either collapsed, or were leaning so much that they were one bad sandstorm away from collapsing. The center smokestack tower stood taller than the rest, showing off its persistence through the ages. Much of the ground inside the area of the refinery was covered in a layer of sand that seemed to climb up the sides of the vertical pipes and silos.

I kept low on my approach, hoping to put some distance between me and my pursuers by passing under and between some of the tightly constructed catwalk bridges and silos on the outer edges of the refinery. Nothing was fazing them.

“Warning: Lock on detected. Homing missile launch sequence detected.”

“What sort of countermeasures do we have?”

“This flight unit is not equipped with-“

“Of course it isn’t!”

Both flight units ceased fire and dropped their speed before unleashing a pair of missiles each. They broke off of their pursuit, likely to avoid being caught in any resulting detonation.

I took a sharp turn down a trench leading to the center tower. The density of pipelines and other metallic obstacles increased the farther in I flew. The four markers representing the incoming missiles on the map followed my every movement, inching closer to my marker.

The missiles were almost as agile as the flight units that once housed them, but the closest was not able to anticipate the archway of rusted steel I dove under, and detonated against it.

The explosion must have sent the closest one to it off course as I heard a second explosion with two marks disappearing from the map.

To avoid colliding with one another, the missiles needed to communicate with each other to account for their own mass as an obstacle while avoiding other, more natural, obstacles. On a more impressive note, if they were as the R&D department described a while back, they would learn from each other through this communication to not repeat the same mistakes as their brief partners did.

If they were talking to each other, wouldn’t it be possible to interrupt them?

“Pod, broadcast my hacking module’s signal into the frequency utilized by the missiles. I need to hack into their communication center directly.”  

“Affirmative. Retrieving signal frequency.”

I kept us alive by avoiding more of the facility’s ruined structures along the trench, keeping the missiles from having a straight shot at me. 153 cycled through countless amounts of frequencies faster than I could imagine.

“Signal received. Successful integration with Unit 9S’ hacking module and the flight unit transmitter. Ready to engage.”

I passed the last bridge of pipes before the trench emptied out into an empty plot of land that circled the center structure. The smokestack was even more colossal up close, and would tower over most city buildings I’ve seen.

“Do it!”

I let hacking space take me in. This space felt different than what I was used to. Normally my personality data is projected onto the landscape that is the system plain, and I am then free to move about. This time my data felt omnipresent more than anything. From what I understood, this was the result of an under-formed, minimal system that did not have the capacity to render personality data. A rarity these days, oddly enough.

All that was present for communications section between the missiles were two massive cubes of data with data plains running back and forth between them. I was hoping the transfer of data would be less complicated, but I didn’t need to understand it. I only needed to interrupt it.

I constructed a no-entry wall of data and placed it in the middle of the cubes. The data plains that collided with it shattered like glass, and the pieces were lost to the depths of hacking space. Both cubes transitioned from off-white to an increasing shade of red before cracking and letting pieces of data fall away. I assumed this was their version of simulating panic, and took it as my cue to evacuate.

Before I could collide with the refinery’s center structure, I turned my flight unit up and to the side to fly away from the ground at an angle. I clipped my unit’s underside on one of the pipes constructing the edge to the base.

The two missiles detonated. Circling around the smokestack from a distance I realized they had collided against the base of the structure it stood upon. The clouds of smoke and fire dispersed to show the extent of the damage done where the base met the ground.

After standing the test of time and nature for millennia, the structure chose to give in and fall towards the side the missiles impacted. The straining and tearing of metal came from the other three sides as the pipes that were dug into the ground were uprooted, and the metal of the girders gave in. Its collision with the ground crushed many of the smaller structures in its path and sent waves of sand into the air. Before the smokestack could be crushed under the collision of its own weight, it and the base connected to it sank into the ground. All that was left was a hole that vaguely resembled the length of the entire stack and structure, roughly a quarter of the refinery’s radius.

“Uh, Pod?”

“Report: Scans show a large open area underneath the facility.”

“A cave system?”

“Negative. The area appears to be connected to the facility above ground. Warning: Hostile Ho229 units inbound.”

The two units broke off from their patrol around the perimeter of the refinery. Their markers reappeared on the map’s east edge, my six o’clock.

“Proposal: Utilize the newly discovered area beneath the surface.”

I didn’t have a lot of options to start off with, and my pursuers having the advantage struck out even more. With little choice left, I dove into the newly created hole and passed through a curtain of sand spilling into it as I leveled out.

Dark didn’t even begin to describe it. The light from the ceiling’s hole had to have been the only light this part of the refinery has seen since the first machine war. Considering everything that the Commander had ripped out of my flight unit, I was surprised when the forward lights activated.

Just in time as well. A large metallic pillar was illuminated in front of me. I was able to maneuver away before colliding with it, but clipped a catwalk on my left wing and was thrown off balance. To avoid an uncontrolled descent I assumed the flight unit’s mobile configuration and the engines were able to balance the unit out. The engines took on a softer pitch by splitting the force necessary to keep me in the air from two engines to four.

“Due to the large amount of structures present, it is advisable that Unit 9S remain in the mobile configuration.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” The entire area under the refinery was filled with pillars like the one I almost collided with. Their diameter must have been at least the same of the smokestack’s that I just assisted in demolishing, if not greater than. Catwalks spanned the lengths between each of them, as well as their circumference, on different levels. There didn’t seem to be any pattern between which catwalks connected which pillars, only that they were the closest pillars to one another.

“Pod, what’s a facility like this doing under a refinery?”

“Unknown. Scans show a link to the pillars and the facility above ground. Further scans show that the pillars are capable of receiving and storing electrical power. Hypothesis: The facility above ground generated power for the structures below ground.”

The forward lights couldn’t reach the bottom of the refinery, or the sides. I could only assume that the area underneath spanned the same diameter as the refinery above ground.

“Is this place even a refinery?”

“Unlikely, however current data is insufficient. Gathering more data will produce a more educated conclusion.”

There wasn’t time for data gathering. The two other units entered through the hole and I hid behind the nearest pillar, shutting off my lights. Their flight units also took on the mobile configuration.

“Warning: It is impossible to access satellite map feed from the current area. Consider relying on visuals until satellite feed is restored.”

“Understood.”

The other two must have been under the same circumstances. They engaged their own lights and began their search, one trailing behind the other as is the standard formation. One of them spotted the catwalk I ran into, possibly noting the metal torn off of the guard railings. Their observation skills were impressive for combat units. It was almost like they were tracking.

I could activate my unit’s close range combat function to get close enough for my hacking module to penetrate one of their systems, but I wouldn’t stand a chance leaving myself undefended to the other android while hacking.

They didn’t stray far from the hole, my only exit. If they couldn’t track me, then they were going to outlast me, and I would bet anything that their flight unit reactors would last longer than mine.

If I remembered correctly, the reactor on my flight unit was capable of sharing energy to and from another unit in order to remain operational, should such emergency needs arise.

“Pod, if we overload the reactor and conduct the excess power into the pillar, is it possible to bring it back to life?”

“Affirmative. Due to the size of the structure, it is likely that it will generate a significant amount of energy.”

If I’m able to give energy, then I should be able to take it. “Can my flight unit handle receiving energy from the pillar?”

“The unit can sustain a sizeable energy surge for a small period of time, so long as there is a conductor present to feed the obtained energy in to.”

“How about the two flight units?”

“The hostile flight units would serve as adequate conductors. The resulting discharge of energy will force their systems to undergo a brief reboot sequence.”

“And during that sequence is my window to hack into the flight unit?”

“Negative. As the system reboots, there would not be an active system for Unit 9S to hack into. However, if Unit 9S is able to gain access into the pilot’s systems, it would be possible to access the flight unit after the reboot sequence is complete via said pilot.”

I brought up the reactor regulations and controls onto the main screen. “Pod, I’m giving you control over the reactor.”

“Affirmative. Apply physical contact with flight unit extremities.”

I placed the unit’s palms against the pillar and increased power to the engines to keep the unit planted against the side.

“Warning: There is a significant amount of risk to Unit 9S’ systems by proceeding—“

“I can handle it. Initiate the reactor overload.”

“Understood.”

There is was again, an unnatural pause before 153’s response. While I assumed it happened in the past due to processing a statement or command, it was happening far too frequently for my comfort. Before I could question it further the reactor’s heightened performance vibrated the entire unit. The engines did their best to keep the unit balanced while fighting against overheating. The temperature of the unit rose as 153 shut off the regulators, allowing the reactor to overwork itself further. With the reactor located above me, the heat seared into the back of my neck.

“Any. Day. Now.” I kept my teeth clenched. Screaming would only alert the other units too early.

“Discharging energy in 3. 2. 1.”

Blinding arcs of electricity jumped from the arms of my flight unit and into the metallic frame of the pillar.

Before I could appreciate the heat from the reactor cooling down, the pillar roared to life and threw me back against the frame in the unit. If the engines weren’t working overtime, the flight unit itself would have been thrown aside. It was amazing how something so small could power something that dwarfed many other structures that I’ve seen.

In my right ear rang many different high pitched tones. The sound of the activation must have shattered my right aural sensor, but there was no time to worry about it now. I had no doubt that my hunters were on their way.

Their lights were already rounding both sides of the pillar.

“Commencing energy retrieval.”

Just as blinding as before, electricity arced its way into my flight unit and overclocked every system, pushing the unit past its limits. When it ran out of systems to power, it started feeding into my synthetic muscles. I pushed away from the pillar as the two units curved around its circumference.

“P-Pod…” Everything was numb. I struggled to keep a firm grip on the unit’s controls.

“Affirmative.”

Each arm of the flight unit extended in the direction of the other two units before expelling all of the energy being obtained into them. I made out the screams of the two pilots over the crashing of electricity finding its way into their units and into them. For a brief moment of clarity, I remembered something about humans and how they would worship deities that could cast lighting at their command. Perhaps it was just a malfunction in my logic circuits, but I found it almost humorous that I had to imitate the acts of gods and goddesses from old world religions to strike at my current foes.

“Ceasing energy sharing functions.”

The energy faded and my connection with the pillar was broken. I activated the flight unit’s close range combat equipment, which was nothing more than a large rod of metal that folded out of the unit’s right arm, sharpened on the tip and edges. In the arrow configuration, it acted as the unit’s tail.

I used my wounded engines to drive it through the right wing of the leftmost flight unit to lock us together. I could have just as easily driven it through the pilot, but they were still YoRHa. It felt wrong to simply kill them. On top of that, they didn’t act like any YoRHa combat units that I’ve seen. I needed to know more. It should be a simple process to revoke their flight unit ID privileges and leave them stranded when I was finished.

I raised my own hand and activated the hacking module, directing it through the pilot. The feeling of being inside hacking space never felt so welcoming. The numbness couldn’t be carried over through my personality data, and my right ear was void of any malfunction.

The complexity of the hacking space inside YoRHa units depended on the android’s model type. While this wasn’t the most intricate system that I have been exposed to, its design was one that I have never come across before.

Her voice echoed through hacking space. “What the hell did you- Oh god, you’re in my head!” I almost forgot that androids could communicate with each other while one inhabited the other’s systems.

“Technically I’m in the systems located in your functions area. If I was in your memory region, then I would be in your head. You know your system is a very unique one, your observation functions are almost on par with that of a second generation scanner. Quite odd for a combat unit, don’t you think?”

“Makes tracking little deserters like you a bit easier, I’ll tell you that.”

“It’s not doing much for you in here though, is it?”

153’s voice overtook our conversation. “System reboot successful for flight unit assigned to Unit 14E. Port access to flight unit systems granted for Unit 9S.”

“An Execution model? I thought you guys were a myth.” I took to a pathway that opened up the port between the flight unit and 14E.

For someone who had a scanner hacking into them, she kept a very snarky chuckle that vibrated the system plain. “A myth? You really don’t live up to your reputation as a top notch scanner.”

“What, not entertained yet?”

The system inside the Mk I Ho229 was much more organized than the prototype. Rather than being a tightly bound mess, every sub-system had its own area of hacking space, and the hub for central functions was much smaller than I remembered it being. It made sense, considering that this was a much more efficient system. I needed access to the pilot-to-flight unit set of functions, but the key needed was much more precise than before. This was going to take a bit of time.

 “Wow, so you’re saying you didn’t know that you came to the surface with an E model?

“I came to the surface with a B model. I think your intel is a bit off, but I understand your confusion.”

“That’d be convenient for you, wouldn’t it-“

“You do realize that I can just tear your system apart from in here, right?”

“If you were going to kill me, you would have already. See, you’re talking about killing to someone who is designed to kill her own friends, loved ones even, without hesitation. Just like the android you came down to the surface with.”

“For the last time, she is a B model.” I needed to revoke the flight unit privileges quickly if I wanted to shut her up, but the key was getting harder to construct with this buffet of information that she was holding in front of me.

It was almost like she was using my curiosity against me.

“Didn’t it feel odd that they would send a combat model down to the surface on a mission that a scanner could perform solo?”

_Yes. Yes it did._

“Really makes you wonder who her target is.”

“She’s not a monster like you!”

“You’re right. She’s worse than a monster, considering everything she’s done.”

“How dare y—“ My data’s body distorted.

“Warning: Unit 9S’ personality data is entering dangerous stress levels. High stress levels will result in the splitting of Unit 9S’ personality data and render him inert. Consider evacuation of hacking space.”

“I wonder what would happen if you knew the truth.”

Truth had never sounded more delicious. No, I couldn’t let her lure me in. This was hacking space, I was in control. Not her.

“You would like to know who she’s killed, who she is designed to kill, wouldn’t you?”

 _Yes. Please._ “Sh- Shut up.”

“I’m going to have fun ripping you and your flight unit apart. Almost as much as she enjoys—“

“I SAID SHUT UP!”

I didn’t remember gaining access to the pilot-to-flight unit functions, but I shattered a line of code that I held in my hands. I recognized it as the base code for the ejection protocol.

Before I understood what I had done, the system removed me from hacking space in time to watch 14E’s flight unit spit her out, sending her screaming into the depths of the facility. Her unit stayed behind, still attached to my own flight unit’s blade.

“Hostile neutralized. One hostile unit remaining.”

“Oh. Oh god. I- I-”

I just killed, no, murdered a member of YoRHa.

I had forgotten about the other unit. That is until it drove its own melee-based equipment downwards. The Mk I close range equipment had been upgraded to generate a cone of fantastic heat around it. It effortlessly sliced through both my flight unit’s sword and the unit locked with it, leaving only a stub of my close range equipment.

The android used the flight unit’s strength to push mine against mine away. There was no more strategy in her attacks. Only rage, mixed with the motivation to avenge her dead partner.

The engines balanced out my unit before it could collide with the functioning pillar. Already she was boosting my way, ready to drive her heated sword through me.

I fired the left most engine to spin me out of the way. It worked, but the engine itself overheated and shut off. The other three engines struggled to pick up the slack.

The android drove her unit’s sword through the pillar where my own body was only a second ago. Lethal amounts of electricity found its way into her flight unit, playing havoc with its system. A red ring appeared around the pillar, in level with where she pieced her sword. Its glow only increased by the second.

“Warning: Catastrophic reaction imminent. Consider retreating from the current area.”

Before I could respond, the ring reached a white-hot color before exploding outward. The shockwave pushed me into another, inactive, pillar. Nothing of either the android or her flight unit remained. The rest of the pillar became a column of fire whose detonation influenced nearby pillars to do the same. Pieces of the ceiling fell from above, following by chunks from the facility on the surface.

I assumed the arrow configuration and bee-lined it to the hole I entered through. Without a working engine or a tail, stable flight was almost impossible. The pillars detonating left and right, causing more of the ceiling to collapse, weren’t making it any easier. I could only hear the detonations on my left, my right ear still rung in various high pitched tones.

I fired the engines upwards when I reached the area underneath the hole. The sun was a welcome sight as I left the underground facility behind. The pressure on my body was taking its toll on my already damaged systems.

With the engines using the last of the flight unit’s power, the screens in front of me disappeared and my manual controls locked themselves. All I could do was watch as the Earth swallowed the facility on the surface while my flight unit continued to soar upwards. I passed over the outer edge of the facility before it was taken into the ground.

Gravity played its part and arced my flight unit down as the engines gave their last breath.

“Warning: Engine failure detected. Unprecedented descent imminent. Consider ejection.”

I grabbed the red handle that sat above me. With a twist and pull, the unit spat me out over the open desert dozens of feet in the air.

“Pod!” I reached out to grab onto 153 to slow my descent. No response. Instead my back hit the far slope of a sand dune and I rolled down its side, stopping at the base.

I don’t know where my flight unit went, I didn’t even hear it land. For the first time today, everything was quiet. All could hear were the wind and sand hitting the back of my coat. The ringing faded out, and now my right ear heard nothing at all. I didn’t want to move and risk losing the peaceful moment.

The temptations to dream took their chance to strike at my broken, vulnerable state by whispering their sweet promises again. They weren’t promising answers this time. They were getting clever, poking at my other desires.

They promised that I could see _her_ again, and reassured that she isn’t a monster. She was all that I would ever need, and they would give her to me.

My face, still feeling the last effects of numbness, managed a smile to spread its way across it. “Yeah, that would be nice.”

They liked that answer, and rewarded me by removing the pain that began sprouting from where the numbness had subsided. I lost myself in their whispers as they engaged my rest cycle.

As promised, 2B was there. She stared back at me in the reflection of a puddle of blood being fed by a wound from a darkened blade, my blade, stuck through the ground. It was the same blade that had been driven through me in my last dream.

I was allowed movement, and as I traced the blade upwards with my fingers so did the reflection of 2B. I took notice of my hands before I reached where the blade met my chest. They were hidden away by a pair of gloves, designed black at the hands and white all the way past a pair of feathered sleeves.

I couldn’t help but laugh, becoming more hysterical the more I took my realization seriously. I was 2B.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not possess a degree in Aeronautical Engineering, therefore I have no business writing aerial combat. These are the lessons in life we learn the hard way. Nevertheless, it was fun!


	5. A Desert Too Far

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As it turns out, the lower the number of the pod the wiser it is.  
> With that, 153 is off character because I was late in learning this.
> 
> Well, it's too late to turn back now.

Dragging myself down Cruel Oath’s blade should have sent sharp aches to play havoc with my, technically 2B’s, abdominal pain sensors, especially when the edge sliced further along the synthetic flesh and opened the wound more than its initial puncture. Instead it rewarded me with a constant flow of ecstasy and the feeling of accomplishment for further injury. Its edge had sliced past the gloves and continued deeper into my palms until my knees pressed against the ground.

With blood from androids being only a little more viscous than water, the puddle rippled as my knees settled to take my weight off from the sword. I stayed still to not disturb the liquid further, and soon it settled enough to make out 2B’s reflection where mine should have been. Her eyes still preserved the range of intense emotions that I witnessed her express once, and only once, before.

The temptations let me see her again. They let me see her nailed to the ground by my own blade, and they let me feel the blissful delight she received from it.

Or was I the one receiving these sensations? Logically, this was my dream, and my mind only understood the perspective from one presence: my own. Therefore it is more likely that my own awareness had merely taken on the form of 2B for reasons I do not understand. Yet I’ve never held masochistic desires in the past, and even if I knew the desires that 2B unlikely held, masochistic or not, it would be impossible for me to interpret them in the same way she would. So why were we enjoying this?

The answer, once again, was uncontrollable laughter that made my abdomen twitch, allowing the blade to slice into me a little farther. I had come to recognize these hysterical outbursts as the sign for my mind not being able to answer such thoughts, and translating them as though they were nothing more than humorous statements. This odd coping mechanism repeatedly put a halt to my progress on removing the blade from the ground.

There was one thought I could turn to. A vile enough thought that could cut the hysteria short.

Perhaps I enjoyed seeing 2B in such a painful, broken position. Maybe seeing her possess a fatal wound delighted some sadistic desire towards her that I had not been aware of. Simply _thinking_ that I could enjoy such a scene, said hysteria was replaced with the cold sensations of guilt that flooded the areas encased behind my rib cage’s frame and downward. There was nothing to laugh about now.

Putting it bluntly, I’m not an idiot. I’m designed to piece information together and draw the most reasonable conclusions and predictions from them. Something in me already knew what the Executioner was getting at when she was putting me at odds with my curiosity function. I didn’t realize how harmful denial could be until now.

_“Didn’t it feel odd that they would send a combat model down to the surface on a mission a scanner could perform solo?”_

I had that question myself, along with several iterations of it. It had taken over my thought patterns when the Commander gave 2B and I the details of our mission. In favor of not being alone I overshadowed the memories of when I read about the E-models from deep in the Bunker’s server, ignoring my suspicions and pretending that the E-model designation does not exist. If it does not exist, then 2B is not an E-model. If 2B is not an E-model, then she will not kill me.

What the hell was I thinking? Deliberate ignorance can’t exist forever without being confronted at some point or another. Such a designation does exist, and enough evidence suggests that 2B is an E-model. Therefore 2B was sent down to kill me if and when ordered to do so, but on what charges? It didn’t matter anymore.

It was the most reasonable conclusion and prediction, and it can only be confirmed at the expense of my life. Just another reason to leave her and the rest of YoRHa behind to understand this dream.

If it’s the truth, then it made sense to feel ill towards her and to want to see her injured beyond saving, by my blade no less. If she’s dead, it would mean my survival. Could I live with myself afterwards? Was survival worth it if I can’t? Knowing I possessed such feelings sickened me further. I’m not a monster. I’m not an executioner.

Whether she did or did not enjoy her role in YoRHa as the Executioner implied, I’d like to say it didn’t make a difference to me. But it did. It was the deciding factor between feeling sympathy for her hardship as being bred an unwilling murderer, or to detest her entire being right down to the silent pulse of her black box.

It seemed that I focused on the thought long enough to work the blade loose from the ground, and I was free to straighten my kneeling posture, free to breathe. The world wasn’t dark, but nothing existed beyond the borders encompassing the puddle of blood. Perhaps this was my dream trying to simulate death. As humans had written, without understanding the experiences present during and after death, it impossible to achieve such an event during a dream.

Nothing would exist until I could “live”, and the desire to live was outweighed by the pleasurable sensations given by Cruel Oath.

Nevertheless, I grabbed the area of the blade behind my back closest to the surface of my body. The blood on the blade’s metal jutting from my front made it slippery, however the backside remained unstained. Even despite my ruined and bloodied palms, I maintained a firm enough grasp to pull the blade from my backside until it began to show resistance.

No more than two inches of the blade that protruded out from my front was left, but it refused to pull any farther. The blade wasn’t serrated, and it hadn’t pierced an area with any components that would latch onto it. Still, every tug felt similar to pulling out an important mechanism. There were no more euphoric rewards for actions that would induce pain. Instead pain itself had become the reward.

Finally, something that made sense.

With a tightened grip on the blade, I yanked on it with whatever strength I had to offer myself. Cruel Oath fell to the ground, and I screamed as though a limb had been torn off from my body.

I doubled over and held both ends of the wound. The tips of 2B’s hair touched the surface of the puddle and dripped blood down, again technically, her face on sitting back up. The world was revealed, having returned during the brief moment I buckled over.

It was the same room my dream dumped me in last time. Nothing was out of place, and the Sun’s light still reflected off of the pure white blades still encased in the chunks of fallen ceiling. There was something missing, however.

While the memories of my dream were almost impossible to recognize from the outside, it seems they were crystal clear during a dream event, and ordered properly. Amongst the dozens of blades should have been a 9S model that was impaled by eight of them. He was missing, and the blades that pierced him were torn away, leaving only jagged stubs of fine metal in the stone.

My outstretched arm led the rest of the body forward to investigate the dozens of blades further. _To investigate_. What a lie.

It was a lie to get the rest of my body to cooperate. The blades activated a lesser evolved mindset. A mindset equivalent to self-preservation being tossed aside when tempted, like a little fish being drawn to the pattern of scales on another fish much farther up the food chain, all in hopes of finding a fulfilling meal. What a dumb little fish.

And what a dumb little me. The glistening light from their edges all the way up to the piercing tip acted as the perfect bait, sporting such an irresistible collection of unstained and unspent metal.

_They’ll be perfect_.

But he was whispering to me. The missing 9S told me that I made a promise that made my blades were against the rules.

But they’re 2B’s blades, right? Her blades were against the rules. My blade still lay on the ground to my right. Our blades were different. Mine was dark, hers were bright. Is that so difficult to comprehend, 9S?

If not, then why was he holding them? He held her blades with his hands, his arms, his torso, his face.

What a hypocrite.

Her blades are against the rules, so why is he holding her blades when I’m not allowed to? He should be holding his blade.

“No, it’s _my_ blade! You’re supposed to hold _my_ blade, not hers!”

So I made him hold my blade. It fit rather nicely in his other eye, and he fell to the ground. It serves him right for having those thoughts about her.

2B fell to her knees. My hysterical laughter picked up once more, I guess I didn’t have an answer for this either. It only escalated the more she sobbed.

“Why did you make me promise?”

How the hell should I know? I guess that’s what was funny about it.

“Commencing seventh attempt. Warning: Applying high energy surge to black box.”

-

Screaming would have been satisfying. Instead every one of my synthetic muscles tightened to pull my body inwards, and my throat only allowed thin, pitiful groans to escape. Similar pathetic sounds were carried out by my joints as my limbs converged further in. 153’s administered shock ran its brief course through my systems before they began to settle, extremities following suit.

As if by routine, I searched every corner of my memory region for any piece of my dream before it was lost to the S-Flow. No luck was found, and once again I was left with only brief snippets of information. Most of it took place in a dim room I didn’t recognize, not that I expected to. There was also talk of a promise, and what a big help that information was.

Panic set in when I heard muffled static coming from 153. If any of the pod’s systems were malfunctioning, I had no hope to repair them without the resources kept in the Bunker. What I feared to be a malfunction in the pod’s voice systems turned out to be damage that I had sustained earlier. The aural sensors in my right ear were shattered, and the only way to repair them also resided in the Bunker.

I could live with that. So long as 153 functioned, I wasn’t alone.

The leftmost aural sensors did their best to amplify their range and sensitivity to compensate, but I still couldn’t make out specific sounds and frequencies like speech coming from the right.

“Pod, please repeat.”

“Understood. Warning: Unit 9S’ black box is currently exposed to an uncontrolled environment.”

An easy fix. Buttoning my coat up solved the issue. It would have been easier if the motor functions in my fingers caught up as quickly as the others.

“Why do my limbs feel lighter?”

“Analysis: Unit 9S’ strength limiter has malfunctioned and is currently inactive. It is advised to take caution when performing physical interactions.”

It wasn’t only my limbs that felt lighter, but the rest of my body as well, so much so that standing was and effortless action, as if my body was ready to float away. As freeing as it felt, I would need to take care. Balancing was an issue, especially in the uneven footing the desert sand offered, and if I applied too much pressure to myself or 153, once again, there is no hope to repair either of us anymore.

“Warning: Unit 9S’ black box integrity has decreased to a near-critical state. Future defibrillation attempts will not be possible. Further Warning: It is ill-advised that Unit 9S engage in a rest-cycle. Engaging in a rest cycle has proven to be harmful for the black box and, in turn, Unit 9S. It was not until the seventh attempt that a successful defibrillation was achieved. Proposal: S-“

“ _Seventh_ attempt?”

“This has come at the cost of the black box’s ability to be tracked and operate at peak parameters. It is estimated that 64% black box efficiency is the current maximum for Unit 9S.”

With all things considered, it wasn’t a bad trade-off to not being able to be pinpointed by Command. “I thought pods were only allowed three attempts before calling it a failure.”

“Being assigned to support and protect Unit 9S, this tactical support unit deemed it necessary to exceed the preset limitations.”

The pausing before 153’s responses was still concerning, but the pod’s speech almost came across as more natural with it, as opposed to pre-programmed. Nevertheless, it’s not supposed to.

“Proposal: In regards to Unit 9S’s rest cycle. Having the present tactical support unit suspend the rest cycle function from Unit 9S’ system would minimize the chance of a permanent shutdown during a rest cycle.”

153 was right. The temptations would come back, no doubt about it. If my rest cycle is not available to them, then they won’t be able to activate it. Last time they were polite and waited for my permission, but who knows how patient they will be the next time.

“Yeah, do it. Suspend my rest cycle function. I’m giving you permission and control over when to unsuspend and re-install it.” I couldn’t be trusted with that kind of power.

“Affirmative. Suspending Unit 9S’ rest cycle.”

Having a function removed felt like water flowing out of my chest. The brief sensation was quickly forgotten by the physical sensors and written off as a minor error.

“Unit 9S’ rest cycle permissions have been temporarily revoked. The set destination is currently seventeen kilometers from Unit 9S’ current position.”

My balance calibrations weren’t performed when the strength limiters were inactive, and I wasn’t aware of how much pressure I was putting into the sand. 153 tugged on the back of my coat, keeping me from falling face first. Such a small action made me appreciate 153, and everything the pod has done, just a bit more.

Still, I couldn’t help but see the humor in needing help with something as simple as walking. “Thanks, Pod. Where would I be without you?”

“Unknown.”

-

I didn’t realize how much I relied on the map before. Normally I would have access to at least a low-quality map that gave a general idea of the region’s layout and topography, along with constant updates on enemy positioning and weather predictions. Not this time. My marked destination sat among an ocean of static.

Granted it’s a desert, and one with sand as far as the eye can see. I should have been able to walk from one point to another without interruption. ‘As the crow flies,’ I think is just one of the many weird sayings humans came up with. It made me wonder if they’d come up with any more while on the moon.

_Focus, 9S. Focus on the map._

The heat wasn’t doing any spectacular favors for my easily distracted mind. The only other place I felt desert heat like this was in my dream, and I can conclude that the real thing isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be. The same went for the sand that stung my face when the winds would pick up. Why would androids stationed in any desert want to defend something like this? What’ll they use the sand for, _burying_ the machines to death? Actually, that’s not a bad idea. The sand would get caught up in their limbs and really limit their motor functions. Heck, it would even-

_Focus!_

I lost my footing again and fell forward, rolling down yet another sand dune. Lifting myself back up wasn't an issue, and 153 was there to make sure I found a steady balance before continuing. I did my best to keep from grabbing hold of the pod’s limbs during these all too frequent moments.

Overtime my body adapted to these changes by recalibrating the balance function to take into consideration the lack of an operational strength limiter. It couldn’t account for the pressure my steps put into the sand, but falling was less common as my body shifted its balance around autonomously again rather than relying on my manual input. The map wasn’t the only thing I took for granted, it seems.

“Proposal: Seek shelter at the location ahead and perform field maintenance on impaired extremities.”

“I said it’ll be fine. I can-“

As if on cue, my left leg went numb from the hip to the foot on taking another step with it. My right knee hit the sand and took the weight of my body away from my leg. It had gone from having less motor control, to less flexibility, and now temporary loss of feeling. None were ideal for my already lacking pace.

“Proposal: Seek shelter at-“

“Yeah, yeah. Those structures up ahead.”

“Affirmative.”

Then again with a 64% efficient black box, a short break wasn’t about to go amiss.

It wasn’t too far a walk, or hobble in my case. The desert was filled with similar structures protruding from the sand. It was a safe bet that some sort of extinct civilization lay beneath the sands, and what a treat it would be to unearth it all to learn more. Who knows what’s preserved under there?

There were only a few machines wandering between the structures, mostly small fry. I let 153 handle them, and they proved to be no match for the pod’s firepower. Still, it felt shameful to pollute the structures, actually ancient ruins felt like a more deserving title, with bullet holes and machine parts. Each bullet hole left scorch marks around each indent. Maybe someone else will come by these ruins in a few millennia and wonder what the meaning the marks had for the local community.

I was getting distracted again. A small opening poked out from a sand dune and led into a small, concrete room. If I was going perform maintenance on my leg I would need a quarantined environment, and this was the best I was going to get. 153’s light illuminated even the room’s darkest corner.

Before I could appreciate the drop in temperature the room offered, my leg gave out once more. In a less than graceful sight, I positioned myself in a corner of the room and cleared away as much sand around me as I could.

This would require precision, which meant no gloves. I took the tip of the leather material on the middle finger and bit down to easily pull the glove away. Instead I bit through the leather and left a hole for my finger to poke out of.

_Right, no strength limiter._ That could have easily been a good portion of my finger if I was any more careless. Of course this meant I couldn’t interact with my leg otherwise I would risk breaking the skeletal frame. No amount of field repairs could fix that.

“Pod, you’re carrying the physical layout for my unit model, right?”

“Affirmative.”

“All right, I’m gonna need you to do the repairs. I’m not seeing any system functionality errors, and this is out of my model’s expertise but I’m guessing the damage is in the leg itself? Maybe its nerve response center?” Drawing a more confident diagnosis would have been easier if I were an H type model. I can pick out and identify internal system issues even before entering hacking space, but physical repairs were a different thing entirely.

“Scanning. Analysis: The leg’s nervous response center is functioning normally, however it is not receiving the signals necessary to carry out the appropriate responses to physical stimuli. Unit 9S’ left leg will need to be opened to understand what repairs will be necessary. Warning: Without engaging in a rest cycle, the repairs will most likely cause critical levels of pain and-“

“If I could feel my leg we wouldn’t be doing field repairs.” I tied my blindfold around my upper leg just above the knee, doing my damnedest to not tear it, in a tight and uncomfortable knot. There would be blood. Not enough to kill me, but I wanted to minimize the blood flow as much as possible. If this were a problem in my torso _then_ I’d be in trouble.

“Open it up.” The human phrase ‘losing daylight’ no longer applied to an Earth that didn’t rotate, but in context it almost felt appropriate. More executioners were on their way, I knew that. There was no telling how far behind they were, or who they were.

A cruel joke played out in my head: 2B, sent to finish her mission as 2E and avenge her fellow E units, despite them having been restored and brought back to life in the Bunker, and enjoying her task as 14E claimed she does. It would only prove that I meant nothing, and that I wasn’t worth the emotion to her. I said a cruel joke, not a funny one. This set-back only allowed her to play catch-up uninterrupted.

And if she caught up? Despite my innumerable disadvantages in my current condition, I resolved to try and do what would need to be done. It hurt enough killing two androids who I’d never met, but if it meant giving me more time to understand and repair the error in my rest cycle and save my following incarnations from having the same dream condition, and give meaning to my current life…

Maybe I could help her understand.

“Proceeding with emergency field repair.” 153 used the pair of smaller limbs to perform the necessary incisions. The fingers attached were likely as sharp as standard surgical equipment, if not more so. I still flinched when the pod cut into my leg, as is the correct involuntary response.

Despite being without feeling the leg was not without blood flow, as I predicted. It trailed down the curve of my leg and formed into an ever-growing puddle on the ground.

The pod’s cut sliced through multiple layers of synthetic skin and muscle. It wasn’t without a little effort, of course. The muscle underneath has more of a dense rubber-like characteristic to it as opposed to the pure organic material humans have.

153 made the incisions on the inner side of my lower left leg. The cuts formed three sides of a rectangle. Instead of completing it by adding the bottom side, 153 opened it like a door with hinges to reveal the leg’s nervous responder, letting gravity hold it open for her.

_Her?_ Pods were never referred to things like ‘him’ or ‘her’ as androids were. Androids only referred to each other as such due to having the appearance of our human creators, when in reality we did not qualify for either title despite being no different from them on surface appearance. A pod had no such appearance nor did they care, but acknowledging 153 as ‘the pod’ felt very impersonal. We’ve been through so much during my short life and 153 has done so much more for me, the burn marks on her side prove it. Surely she deserved a more formal pronoun rather than the equivalent to ‘it’. I guess I went with the more feminine of the two due to the pitch of her voice reminding me of the voices found on most female-framed androids.

Thin trails of smoke rose from my opened leg as 153 kept poking her smaller extremities inwards.

“Hey, what’s-“

“Report: While the nervous response center is intact, its direct receiving line is no longer functional. It was deemed necessary to solder the connection using the excess line connection. The response center has been deactivated for the time being.”

“Oh.” I could’ve figured that out. “I understand. Thanks, by the way.”

“Acknowledged. You are welcome.” She continued her work.

First the pauses before speech, and now phrases used in casual conversation? I was both appreciative and worried. Maybe there was something wrong with her, something I wouldn’t be able to fix.

“Pod, when were you scheduled for your next maintenance session?”

“This tactical support unit is not due for maintenance for another two weeks and five days.”

“Are your systems operating well? Your speech has been, I guess a bit off.”

“The last personal system check was performed one hour and twelve minutes ago. No abnormalities were detected.”

“Well, if anything does come up abnormal, let me know and I’ll do what I can to fix it.” Though, what I could fix was very limited.

“Appreciated.”

I wasn’t too convinced, but this new speech of hers was something I would need to get used to, which shouldn’t be too hard. It wasn’t like there would ever be anyone else to get used to anymore.

-

While I appreciated 153’s meticulous work, I wished she’d pick up the pace. For every minute that I wasn’t moving was another minute that YoRHa could catch up and end my brief existence. How long had I been alive again? Including my field testing, which began a few hours after coming to my initial consciousness, I estimated no more than four, maybe five days. How glorious, in the grand scheme of things.

_My initial consciousness_. Thinking back to it brought along memories of another scanner, 1S. He was the head of R &D if I remembered correctly.

I swear, greetings must have been a foreign concept to him. On meeting him, he opened a holo-screen and skipped to asking questions that he claimed were necessary for new models to answer on rollout.

They started as logic-based questions centered on simple mathematics, and became more complicated to require more advanced thought to answer.

“In relation to the Earth’s surface, where are you right now?” A question on precision.

“The R&D Rollout Center, Bunker station. Orbiting at 398 kilometers from the surface of the Earth and increasing as the station nears its apogee.”

“What is the Bunker’s purpose?” A question on forming an analysis.

“The Bunker is to serve as the central hub for all of YoRHa’s frontline operations, as well as a storage center for the memories and backup data of each unit under YoRHa’s command.”

“Do you like it here?” A question on the ability to think individually, as the question had no right or wrong answer.

“While it does seem a bit bland, it could become a place of comfort. I like the potential it has of being something close to a home.”

“Last question. Do you possess any memories or data that you do not recognize and, or consider intrusive?”

A question on, well, I wasn’t sure. My system was an open book to everyone before waking up. If they caught something then I wouldn’t have been in operation. The question seemed almost pointless in comparison to the rest. Considering my life was only mere minutes long, I shouldn’t possess memories to begin with. However, I reasoned, seeing how connected everyone’s data is with the Bunker it might not be impossible for data to bleed over from one unit to another.

“No.”

Oh, the answers I’d have for him if he asked me that now.

-

I needed to get moving soon.

153 had done the work I had been afraid to do with perfection. She closed the leg’s opening and sealed it shut with gel lining the incisions, and my visor was used as a bandage to keep away foreign material. The nervous responder was set to increase its sensitivity as the healing progressed, and as of right now my leg had regained just the smallest amount of sensory functions. It would have to do.

“Warning: Unit 9S’s condition has not reached a safe parameter to perform strenuous activities.”

She wasn’t wrong. Watching me stand up must have been entertaining at the very least. Walking, limping rather, had to be even more so.

“Proposal: Allow for the necessary healing time of two hours to pass before-“

“We don’t have that kind of time. YoRHa’ll catch up with us if we don’t get moving.”

“It is not advised to apply unnecessary pressure to-“

“Pod, understanding my dream is all I have left. Please don’t have me risk that because we waited too long.”

This pause in 153’s speech was more concerning than before as it was accompanied by a slight tremble in her movement. Her version of stuttering, maybe? It was impossible to tell. “Understood.”

She joined my side in front of the entrance and shut off her light. I couldn’t say I missed the direct sunlight, but I already missed the shade inside.

Holding on to the frame of the entrance, I let my right leg take the first step to steady itself in the unstable sand. My left leg followed as I stayed balanced against the frame.

“Pod, activate NFCS.”

“Affirmative”

Cruel Oath burnt into its levitating position onto my back. My intentions were to grasp such a fine, well-crafted blade, purposed as a piece of expensive battle equipment, and reduce it to no more than a walking stick meant to support my left side.

I looked towards the desert’s horizon and admired at just how empty something can be. “How much farther is it?

“The destination is 6.49 kilometers from Unit 9S’ current position.”

“Should be seeing the mountain coming over the horizon soon, then.” Without wasting another second, I limped forward towards the marker.

A breaking-down scanner and a pod desperately making a journey through a desert that might just be pointless in the end. What a sight it must have been, and not one that struck optimism.

-

My leg regained feeling with every step. Good portions of that feeling were from the unaligned synthetic muscle fibers that were forced to heal against their pattern. That’s not to say the healing was painful, but more-so uncomfortable as the leg refused to straighten without putting effort against the connecting muscles. Of course, that was my fault. No doubt pain would follow as my leg neared peak sensory parameters.

Cruel Oath became less of a walking stick, aside from the unbalanced moments to counter my lopsidedness. I considered deactivating my NFCS, but climbing up the sand dunes was less demanding with it. I left it floating behind my back for easier access.

There was a sort of hope I possessed at one point. Inside the mountain held the solution to my dream. It _had_ to. Without it this mission, my life, was meaningless.  

After the mountain rose in full over the horizon, that hope whittled away with step after step. I held onto the last shred of whatever brought me this far by stopping just before the archway.

“You know, I thought it’d be bigger.” For a geological structure classified as a mountain, it was quite lacking.

“Proposal: Unit 9S should enter the mountain’s interior and lessen the chance of internal overheating.”

_So impatient_. But that is what I came all this way for, right? Not to stare down its pitch black interior, framed by the archway I was all too familiar with when I shouldn’t be.

“Pod, it’s nice having you here. I don’t think I could have done this alone.”

“Acknowledged. It is good to be here.”

I ceased worrying about the odd speech a while ago. Instead I gave a light pat to the back of her rectangular compartment. This time, the enthusiasm in her hovering motions didn’t escape me.

-

If anything, I couldn’t have done this without 153’s light. The only light that the interior could have ever seen before us would have come from the wall-based torch mounts, which lacked the proper fuel to be utilized. They were placed in groups of three or four around specific designs and structures that hinted towards the interior’s true purpose as a temple of religion, or a cult. Of what? Who can say. According to the amount of branching hallways and rooms within, it was either well-respected or well-funded. Maybe both. Half of that funding had to have gone towards covering the floor in a layer of sand.

Taking in such sizable amounts of new data eased my neglected curiosity programming. I had forgotten how euphoric it felt to uncover new, raw information. But after combing through two floors of god-knows how many rooms and hallways without finding the specific information I need, it gets a _little_ frustrating.

“Query: With the mission of reaching the coordinates acquired sixteen hours and twenty one minutes ago completed, what are the current intentions of Unit 9S?”

Had it really been that long? I took 153’s word for it, being disconnected from the Bunker also meant I was without a way to keep track of time.

I peeked into another room. A pathetic waste of time, like the rest so far. “I’m trying to locate the solution to repairing whatever it is that causes the malfunction in my rest cycle.”  

“It is unlikely that there will be a solution present in such a primitive facility. Proposal: Unit 9S-“

“I don’t need your goddamn pessimism right now. Either give me something that’s useful, or shut up!”

So maybe it was more than a little frustrating. I jerked my face away so I didn’t have to meet 153’s blank slate head-on.

“This tactical support unit is merely performing its set duties acquired before being assigned to support and protect Unit 9S.”

Like the guilt of snapping at her didn’t hit hard enough already. ‘I’m just doing my job’ would have been enough.

“Yeah, well. Lay off a bit, will you?”

No response. Not that I deserved one.

Of course my lack of success didn’t go unnoticed. For some time the temptations whispered to me of what they promised to give. Comfort, meaning, answers, 2B, they promised it all. The joke was on them, I didn’t have a rest cycle function for them to take advantage of anymore. But it took everything to keep from asking, _begging_ , 153 to re-install it.

“Alert: Light and increased air flow detected thirty two feet ahead.”

I noticed it as well. Just beyond the reach of 153’s light was a dim rectangle that illuminated the ground, stretching from the entrance to another room. The light didn’t flicker like fire would, nor was it being manipulated like a flashlight.

_Dormant machines?_ With their unblinking eyes taking a dimmer tone during a dormant period, it would make sense. However, I would have seen their tracks left in the sand.

I was desperate for some form of change in my nearing-futile search through the temple, but now at the sight of it, stepping forward took a bit more effort. It took my blade in hand.

“No life signs detected. Use of close-range equipment will not be necessary.”

I wasn’t about to make that mistake. YoRHa got the drop on me once, and it wasn’t going to happen again.

“Pod, lights off.”

In an instant, it was pitch black aside from the light spilling from the room.

Before turning to enter, I crept up against the wall and listened for anything, keeping an eye on the light for shadows, or any sort of movement.

Nothing. It was quiet enough to even hear the hum of 153’s hovering. That is, until the temptations came back again. I shook them to the back of my head and continued to ignore them, or try to.

Many of the rooms in the temple only had a single entrance, and I figured this one was no different. Whatever was making the light, it would have to come to me.  

Stepping into the light, I took a defensive pose with my blade. Nothing responded in attack, or in general.

Then I saw the source of the light, and what a disappointment it was. The Sun, millennia ago, found a way through the mountain by using a hole in the ceiling. Losing the last bit of my own optimism, I let my blade fall to the ground before stepping inside.

“There’s nothing here!” I kicked a cloud of sand up from the ground, defacing the temple with my presence further. “I deserted YoRHa. I killed my own kind. I betrayed 2B. I’m falling apart. AND THIS IS WHAT I GET?”

“Warning: With a black box efficiency of 64%, Unit 9S cannot sustain heightened emotional outbursts for moderate to extended periods of time without risking a forced shutdown-”

“SHUT UP!” They’ll kill me anyway. It’s not something I’d rather be awake for.

I looked at the part of the sand I vandalized. Such an even layer of sand that covered the ground that must have taken lifetimes for nature to achieve, ruined in one stroke.

Hey, why stop there?

With no strength limiter, it was effortless breaking apart the fallen ceiling chunks by stomping on them.

“Warning: Unit 9S’ skeletal frame is not designed for such strenuous…”

I picked up one of the pieces that broke off. No bigger than my hand, it held an unfathomable amount of history just waiting to be revealed and studied.

I pitched it against the wall.

I took another chunk and watched it follow suit by breaking apart against the stone. The pieces joined the resting places of those from the first chunk.

Seconds later, more joined them. This one took some of the wall with it.

God, this was fun.

I reeled back to launch another chunk, but something caught my eye. There was a pattern along the wall that didn’t match. The little scanner in me wasn’t done playing archeologist yet.

“Pod, lights.”

The wall was illuminated where I left my handiwork. I got closer and ran my hand over the area next to it. My fingers circled a hole with a ring of marks surrounding it. The hole was accompanied by dozens, maybe hundreds, of others around it and on the other walls.

Bullet holes? Yes, but from where? The Resistance might be responsible, but there were no signs of a skirmish with the machines, nor would they come for target practice here.

But there had been a fight, and it involved a good deal of ammunition.

“Pod ordinance.” I knew I recognized the scorch marks around the holes.

I lowered my head, refusing to look 153 in the face. “Pod, which tactical support units are equipped with the same gatling configuration as you?”

“Only tactical support units Pod 042 and Pod 153 are equipped with-“

“And 2B is 042’s assignment.”

“Affirmative. Warning: Black box temperature increasing-”

“We fought, didn’t we? 2B and I. What was it over?”

“Answers for both queries are unknown.”

“Bullshit!” Cracking the wall with my fist, I faced down her light and towards her blank slate of a face. “You were there, you had to be! She is _not_ this inefficient!” I gestured to the four bullet hole-riddled walls making up the room. “There’re no records of you being assigned to anyone else but me!”

“This tactical support unit does not have any information regarding Unit 9S’ hypothesis.”

I stomped to the center of the room and took the time to admire the nothing I had uncovered.

The temptations took their chance and stroked my curiosity with the same promises that looked all too appealing now. There was nothing in the temple for me to fix my dream, a fact I should have faced some time ago.

What a meaningless life. At least I had a painless way to die.

“Pod, re-upload my rest cycle function.”

“Cannot comply.”

Maybe I mumbled. “Re-upload my rest cycle.”

“Cannot comply.”

I turned towards her. The skeletal frames in my hands groaned against the pressure of balling into fists. “Pod, I _order_ you to re-upload the rest cycle to my system.”

There it was again, the tremble in her hovering. “Will not comply.”

“Excuse me? _Will?_ ” No. Pods don’t get a will.

“This tactical support unit refuses to allow Unit 9S to harm himself further. Commencing deletion of Unit 9S’ rest cycle functi-“

“NO!”

A single gleam of light reflecting off of dark metal woke me up too late. Unknown to me in my anger, Cruel Oath dissolved back into my grasp, and the blade found its way through 153’s rectangular compartment.

For a few seconds, there was nothing. I didn’t breathe, there was no hum to her hovering, and not even the temptations spoke.

I fell to my knees and removed the blade from her and tossed Cruel Oath away, keeping it as far from her as possible. I kept her off of the ground and held her close to me.

“Pod?”

No response.

“Pod 153?”

Her extremities limped and a few sparks flew from her wound. I couldn’t tell if it was an attempt or not to speak.

“Pod…” Tears fell from my face and trailed down hers. The light on her antenna pulsed its last, and the sparks stopped. My tears didn’t.

“Please, I’m sorry.

“Please don’t leave me alone.”


	6. Don't Let Me Come Back

Virtuous Contract carved a way past the surface of the writhing body and through its core. With that, what remained of the last marked machine nest littered the forest floor and the mission was over.

To a battler model, a successful mission grants a sense of purpose. It’s what they are designed for, and without it they mean nothing to themselves. Such a pre-programmed mindset is as unfair as it is effective, if the mission success to fail ratio is accurate. I’m not blessed with such a mindset, however. To me, this mission only existed to vent my frustrations on the machines. How unfortunate for them.

But when the surroundings settled from the battle, so did my mind back onto 9S and his unusual orders. Though, what was so unusual? After the hit he took, extensive repairs were necessary and only the Bunker could apply a permanent fix as well as perform the data overhaul he was to undergo.

“Machine nests destroyed. No enemies detected for a seven kilometer radius. Unit 2B should request further orders from—“

“Pod, give me a summary of 9S’ orders from earlier.”

“Unit 2B has already requested a summary of Unit 9S’ orders two hours ago, and submitted the similar request one hour prior to the second—“

“I am well aware. Give it to me again.”

“Unit 9S’ orders entail reporting back to the Bunker via flight unit for repairs, data overhaul, and memories stripping for combat review.”

That was it. Never before have they needed to _strip_ his memories for review. Review of a common battle, no less. As perceptive as he is, he is too much so to focus solely on the combat. If they wanted battle data, then a combat model, me for example, would have been more sensible to gather data from. It wasn’t combat data they were looking for.

Only a few days since coming to consciousness, and already they were so desperate to find something worth killing him over?

I shook the thought away. The Commander wouldn’t be so cruel, nor is it my place to question it. I told myself to stop getting hung up on him as if he were a single unit. Everything that every unit does, everything that happens to them, is geared towards benefiting the android forces for a more positive outcome in this war.

His reaction earlier, as if it was his instinct to be scared of me, told me I’m doing enough damage to him. Knowing why I’ve followed the order multiple times would only do more to the both of us.

“Repeat: Emergency transmission received from Command.” The notification ping confirmed it.

I loosened the painful grip I had on my blade’s handle, letting it burn away behind my back. “Open it.”

042 presented the screen. I was hoping to see 6O’s face on it, her chipper voice and attitude would have been welcomed. Instead I was met with the Commander’s. While receiving orders straight from the Commander was considered almost an honor by some, as opposed to relayed by their operator, it rarely turned out to be the highlight of my day.

Nevertheless, she deserved respect. I straightened up as if she stood in front of me in person.

“2B, we’ve had a problem with 9S’ return to the Bunker.”

“How so?” Any other, more personal, questions such as ‘Where is he?’ or ‘Is he all right?’ are products of emotion, and therefore not the questions to ask to her.

“During his flight back to the Bunker, we noticed an error in his trajectory.” Her focus shifted the lower edge of the screen where I assumed her console was situated. “As it turns out, he managed to hack his way into the flight units systems to disengage the auto-pilot and set a course to the east nine hours ago. After refusing to obey orders to direct his course back towards the Bunker, he was branded a deserter as of four hours ago.”

Death was the only penalty for desertion, as were other actions against YoRHa. I forgot how many 9S’s ago I promised him I would be the one to deliver that punishment to him, but knowing that I possibly broke that promise chilled me through to the core.

“Was the executioner successful?”

“Due to 9S possessing a flight unit, two were dispatched. Despite their overwhelming advantage, both 14E and 19E were unsuccessful.”

“So he’s still alive?” I hadn’t broken my promise. Not yet.

“We lost his black box signal shortly after the death of 19E, however his backup data has yet to be activated. He’s still alive, but we can’t track his location from here—“

“I’ll find him.” I wasn’t about to let this chance slip away. Anyone else will simply murder him as just another order. He deserved to die by someone who would remember him. I promised him, after all. “I know his patterns better than anyone else. He’ll be easy for me to track.”

“I’m pleased by your enthusiasm. Especially since you’re our only functioning E-type with previous experience in the desert he was last detected in. The installment of the Mark I flight units is going to delay one being sent to you by, at most, 22 hours.”

“That’ll give him a decent head start, Commander. I can still catch up to him in a prototype flight unit.”

“The last functional prototype was used by 9S. The rest have been disposed of, and 14E and 19E lost our only Mk I’s cleared for operation. I wouldn’t worry about him gaining too much ground. If we can’t track his black box then it likely received some damage, and he’s not going to get far with a damaged box.”

The tone in her last statement was spoken like it was just a game of hunt to her, like 9S was her wounded quarry for me to track down and kill.

“In the meantime we’ll send you the coordinates for both the flight unit retrieval location, and where you will be heading. Your backup will rendezvous with you after—“

“No. No backup.” I felt the break in my voice.

The Commander’s face stiffened and snapped back to mine. “Excuse me?”

“I’m sorry, Commander, but it will be easier without backup. If I play the part right, he’ll be more likely to trust me if I am alone, and it’s easier to kill the target when it trusts you.” Of course, it only made the opportunity easier to come by. The action of breaking that trust took even more of a toll on my own will than if he never saw me as trustworthy.

The Commander softened her features and nodded. “I understand. Very well, you will be on your own, but I will warn you that he did murder two E-units. He is not to be underestimated.

“2B, consider this your order to terminate Unit No.9 Type S.”

“Understood, Commander.”

“There is one more thing. R&D has requested that the black box remain intact and brought back for study. They are curious on how a scanner model was able to take on two E-type models and survive. ‘Luck’ does not seem to be a part of their vocabulary.”

_To study? Like an animal?_

My hands, now fists, trembled outside of the Commander’s view. “Understood.”

“Be careful, and good luck, 2B.” And with that, the connection was broken.

Virtuous Treaty burned into my hands, and I brought its edge down onto a nearby machine corpse. I reeled back and drove it down again. And again. And again, throwing my voice into every swing. It didn’t cut, but tore through the metal and mechanisms inside the body. Sparks, pieces of metal, and machine oil flew against my face.

How dare they think of him as anything less than a person. They’ve put him through so much, and he will never remember any of it. Those memories will remain lost, thanks to them.

Thanks to me.

It wasn’t hard to picture the Commanders face on the machine’s as I brought the blade down through the head. What was a, somewhat, intact machine corpse now lay spread out in pieces of scrap metal and wires across the forest floor. Emotions are prohibited, but nobody’s around to know.

Or care.

“Alert…”

Almost nobody.

“The current actions being performed are considered a waste energy. Alert: Black box temperature nearing critical levels. Ceasing current actions will likely bring Unit 2B’s black box temperature down to normal—“

“Did the coordinates come in yet?”

“Affirmative. The promised flight unit’s descent is estimated to take place 18 to 22 hours from now. The unit’s descent will take thirty to forty minutes when launched. Proposal: Head back to the salvaging camp to await further orders.”

“Keep me posted.” I let my blade burn away and sat down on the forest floor. The camp can wait, I needed time to think now.

My visor was wet. I didn’t know when I started crying, or stopped.

-

The flight unit hovered in its mobile configuration to give me an overlooking view of a gaping hole that spread itself across the sand and deep into the ground. The clouds of hot smoke that rose hundreds of meters into the air from it, which is what caught my attention and warranted a brief survey, made it impossible to see into its depths.

“The structures outside of the cave-in’s area appear to have been constructions of the old world. Hypothesis: The area was an old world facility that was designed with multiple levels below the surface, and time along with lack of proper maintenance caused the facility to collapse. The smoke indicates that the cave-in was a recent occurrence.”

I circled the flight unit around the perimeter, away from the harmful effects that the smoke would have on the engines. “How recent?”

“Update: Scans indicate left over heat and explosion markings carved into the walls of the cave-in. Hypothesis update: The collapse was induced by an outside force, as opposed to natural causes. While having reduced in temperature to even with the rest of the wall’s surface, the textures of said markings indicate that the collapse occurred eighteen to twenty eight hours ago.”

“That’s quite a margin.”

“The accuracy of the reading is affected by the present interference.”

I had assumed Resistance operations were the cause of the smoke as no machine lifeforms were picked up. But considering that android forces are advised to keep collateral damage of old world structures to a minimum, seeing the destruction put a swift end to the theory.

It made sense why 9S would venture here. He needed cover when pursuit began, and whatever facility that existed here was the only structure for miles to provide such services.

The time of the facility’s collapse fit the timeline of events from 9S’s desertion to command losing his signal. But for one android, a scanner at that, to cause such a large amount of destruction almost instilled a bit of fear into me.

Almost.

Previous 9S’s have had the potential for violence out of survival. While survival may have been the key motivator behind whatever happened here, I couldn’t help but connect it to 9S’ fear-induced malfunction back at the camp.

It was the first time such a malfunction had occurred without a sound reason. There had been a lot of firsts over the past two days, like command wanting to strip his memories and study his black box, so I refused to call any of it a coincidence.

There wasn’t much left to this trail, and it was only going to get colder as long as I stuck around. I continued on my course to the marked coordinates and put the wreckage of the facility behind me.

-

The coordinates given to me were not as precise as I would’ve preferred. The radius made finding the flight unit like finding a needle in a haystack. At least I think that’s the phrase 9S used a few times before.

I had 042 scan for any emissions of radiation that a damaged flight unit reactor would give off. The pod’s findings reduced the search radius by almost three quarters. It was still difficult to manually scan the area from high above as the winds picked up, pulling more sand with them.

Then I saw it. A dark grey spot in the sand with, I noticed as I flew in closer, many other smaller spots trailing up to and surrounding it. With the amount of debris fallen from the damaged flight unit, it would have been possible that 9S himself sustained too much damage to remove himself from the unit and was still stuck inside.

“Pod, are you getting any signs or messages from Pod 153 down there?”

“Negative. Communication with Pod 153 has been attempted on multiple occasions over the past 19 hours. Such attempts have yet to yield a successful connection.”

I brought my flight unit down a few meters away from his before the cockpit opened to let me out

“9S?” I let Virtuous Contract burn into my hand. I was not aware of his current condition, and there was a chance of him being infected with a logic virus by being in such an exposed state for so long. If such was the case, I would give him a quick death to avoid further suffering on his part.

Keeping a safe distance from the unit, I circled around to its front. The first thing I noticed was that the unit was still in its arrow configuration, and the cockpit, what was left of it, was open without a pilot inside. I sheathed my blade onto my back and moved closer to the craft, taking note of the burn marks and bullet holes still present on the unit’s surface. Neither did wonders for my already present worries.

“Analysis: The manual ejection was released prior to the flight unit achieving a crash landing. Such an action was necessary considering the burnt out, and damaged engines. Said damage does not appear to be related to the landing.”

“So if he isn’t here, he’s on-foot.”

“Affirmative. Considering the ejection, Unit 9S’ path on-foot would not begin at the flight unit. It is impossible to determine the location where the actual landing of Unit 9S occurred, and the constant change in the sands would have covered up any artificial trail he would have left behind.”

It would have been so easy to lie. Lie to the Commander that his trail went cold, and try to convince her that a single scanner, damaged at that, was not worth the resources to comb the entire desert for. But I still had a promise to keep, and I refused to let down his memory just so it would be easier on me.

The Commander was right when she said I had previous experience in this desert, though it would have been more accurate to call it tragic history. I recognized many of the structures that poked out from the sand, and while the sands were in a perpetual state of change, said structures were anchored to their position. There was a place in this desert I hoped never to return to, but very few of my hopes had ever seen reality.

“Proposal: Unit 2B should request additional support to widen the search area—“

“No. I know where he’s going.”

-

I had 042 use the flight unit’s more advanced systems to amplify the pod’s scanning range and locate any significant peaks in elevation. I wasn’t long until scans picked up the mountain range I was looking for less than eighteen kilometers to the east.

What took me a fraction of an hour must have taken 9S many, if not an entire day if he was as damaged as I feared. The peak cleared the horizon and I followed through 042’s suggestion and descended towards the mountain’s base to scout out its entrance.

Despite the increasing winds kicking up heavy amounts of sand, the entrance was almost too easy to spot. An archway carved into the mountain side did not scream inconspicuous. A few times, 9S said that the place was at one point a temple or a sanctuary, so it made sense that the humans who sculpted the facility would make its entrance easy to find for other humans.

I touched down just a few meters in front of it and had 042 send the flight unit on a pre-determined flight course, which would return the unit to this position in one hour. The inside was almost a labyrinth, and if 9S snuck past me he would have a free flight unit to escape with if I left it sitting outside.

Watching the flight unit take to the sky brought the design of the archway to my attention. The few times 9S pointed it out, he revealed something different about. Whether it was an odd design, a symbol, or a decent-sized nick on the side, it was something I hadn’t noticed the previous times. Something about it felt personal. Noticing things was his job rather than mine, and for a brief moment he would let me into his world by revealing what was hidden from my eyes that wasn’t hidden from his.

And sometimes he never got the chance to show me something new. Sometimes just before he could reach the entrance, when the sense of curiosity and the potential of discovery would spread a smile across his face, I would complete my mission. Whatever new thing he would have shown will forever be a mystery to me.

I couldn’t help but wonder what new detail he discovered this time as I entered the mountain myself, following his literal footsteps that were untouched by the winds and shifting sands outside. That too would have to stay a mystery.

-

My approach to the situation wasn’t tactical or stealthy, despite the obvious advantage 9S had. He had time to familiarize himself with the mountain’s interior, so it’s likely he would have an idea on which halls were a dead-end, which rooms possessed the best cover, and the paths to take to lose a pursuer.

With that in mind, my strategy was geared towards getting him to trust me, and I needed to look vulnerable to do so. I kept Virtuous Contract on my back despite having no intention of striking first, but I would at least defend myself in the event that 9S saw me as a hostile.

Along with the mission from the Commander, I had a mission of my own. I needed to know what brought 9S back to this place and only he could give me those answers. Had he ventured anywhere else I would have assumed it was out of curiosity, but to be drawn back here was too coincidental even for his sensitive curiosity functions.

9S hadn’t left the temple. The giveaway was that there was only one trail with marks left by his boots leading inwards. His trail of footprints started out as uneven, appearing that he favored putting pressure on his right leg over his left. As he went further in the pressure put into the sand evened out. Observing this transition aided in following his exact route, as there were several intersecting hallways where his tracks would cross over each other multiple times.

Earlier his tracks dipped into every room in every hall to explore the contents within. For a scanner, such a thing was normal as he was probably taking in all of the information he could. Later on his tracks stopped exploring each room and would only enter and then exit. After that, they stopped entering the rooms all together. He was looking for something specific, and I didn’t know what it was. It would be another question I’d need him to answer. It quickly became impossible to tell which order his directions took him.

It wasn’t until I happened upon a set of his tracks that held dust-like material that reflected the light from 042’s torch and what looked and felt like thin, opaque shards of glass. 042 identified the shards as the material that acted as an android’s outer flesh that had hardened, or decayed, due to disuse. “Proposal: Follow the trail containing the pieces of decayed android flesh.”

“Do you really need to put it like that?”

“Using certain terms as well as implementing recent collected data was the most efficient way to form the previous proposal. Efficiency in the current situation was deemed necessary and—“

“All right, I get it. Just keep me posted on any movement you detect, or if you get a signal on 9S’ black box or his pod.”

“Affirmative.”

I took the suggestion and followed the, for lack of a better term, discarded flesh further into the mountain and up a staircase to the temple’s second floor. The trail of dust and shards didn’t last long, but 9S’ most recent path was almost impossible to not pick out from the rest. The tracks accompanying the shards had gone back to being uneven, like the tracks I came across at the entrance. However, it lacked any real pattern. Instead the tracks were made as if he were shuffling through the halls without taking the effort to pick up his legs.

“Update: Faint rhythmic audio detected. The pattern is not unlike that of heavy breathing.”

I stopped my own breath and movements to listen, but my aural sensors weren’t as sensitive and failed to pick up anything. “Which direction?”

“Unknown. The audio itself appears to be an echo. Giving an accurate location to the source is not possible. Proposal: Continue to explore the mountain’s interior until the source is located.”

With that, I continued forward and took care to make as little sound as possible. The sand already dulled most of the noise my footsteps made, but I needed to be able to pick up even the faintest of sounds to get a reading on which direction to head. The tracks 9S left had run their usefulness as I was unable to pick out one set from another.

For someone who complained about traveling long distances on foot through his multiple lives, he sure was stacking up quite a distance traveled by wandering these halls.

A couple sets of tracks pulled away from the middle of the hall and into a room with light spilling from it, just beyond 042’s light. It was the only major deviation from the trails I came across since the tracks stopped entering the rooms all together.

It couldn’t have been a coincidence that he chose to explore that room after skipping over so many others. My guess was that the light drew him to explore this one further.

I entered the room myself, and before 042’s light found its way past the entrance frame the only source illuminating the room was from the familiar hole in the ceiling. However, the bits of the ceiling that fell away to allow the light in were missing from the ground.

042 revealed the damage done by our first battle by shining a light along the walls. The recovery team was able to clean up most of the evidence that we were here, but the damage done to the walls was permanent. How fitting.

The tracks in the room took a moment for me to process. In the first few rooms of the temple, the tracks explored the room and its contents. In this room, they covered the floor with no intent on exploration or becoming familiar with it. There was no set path, and some tracks hinted at 9S bumping into the walls before changing his course.

The pod directed the light onto the far left corner of the room where the remnants of the stone from the fallen ceiling were piled no higher than my knees. On closer inspection, piled was too humble of a description. The stone had been constructed upwards, with the two largest slabs leaning against each other to form the majority of the triangular structure while the smaller pieces filled the front and back openings.

“Why would he make something like this?”

“Unknown”

The way the structure stood looked as if it was hollow on the inside. Maybe 9S left something behind that would help in locating his next steps. In order to find out, I pulled the two large slabs apart making the smaller bits of stone lose balance and fall inward.

“Oh my god.” I flinched backwards enough to stand up and lose my grip of the two stones.

042’s light focused on small, cylindrical extremities that crossed over one another, and led up to the rectangular compartment whose top end was propped up by stone. Said compartment was not unlike my pod’s, save for the darker shade. The similarities ended when the light focused on a puncture wound that penetrated through the blank-slate face and past the back side. It was a grave for Pod 153.

This explained why 042 was not receiving any communication from the 153, and the fact that the pod had yet to provide an analysis, report, or anything but silence was concerning. I was unaware of how the comradery in the Pod Networked functioned, but it may have been more close-knit than I thought. So much so that the pod was too busy processing the sight of 153’s state to monitor for movement.

“Who’s there?”

042 and I turned to face the entrance in unison and the light fell onto the familiar figure of 9S, blade in hand, though familiarity stopped at the light male build that was specific to scanners. The rest took my breath away.

Looking past the exhausted stance and the dried blood on his left leg, what stood out were the dark, empty sockets where his eyes should have been. The areas around the eye sockets explained the short trail of android flesh I followed. The skin had fallen away from around the eyes to reveal the tougher black under-skin enough to almost mimic his visor, and would have succeeded had it not stopped just before reaching his ears. Cracks continued to sprawl out further from the edges where the flesh was already missing, the longest branches stretching down past his cheek bones.

The lack of reaction to 042’s light meant that not only the spherical pieces that mimicked the human eyes were missing, but the optical sensors had also been removed. I couldn’t fathom how he reached such a broken state.

My unwilling gasp for breath drew 9S’ focus towards my direction, hinting that his aural sensors have already taken over as his dominant sense.

His lips snarled back and revealed his teeth like an overprotective animal, and he brought his blade’s point towards me. The accuracy in his sense of direction was remarkable given his current status, but I couldn’t admire it for long.

“Stay away from her!” He dashed towards me after bellowing his threat. After the first two steps, he pushed himself off of the ground and leapt the rest of the room’s distance towards me, ready to bring his blade downwards.

I had enough time to unsheathe Virtuous contract to block 9S’ oddly predictable motion of attack. What I couldn’t have predicted was the strength behind the motion. It should have been obvious that his strength was high above its normal parameters when he cleared the length of the room, but I was already predicting attacks and counter attacks, that I had no intent on using, that I forgot to focus on the present.

Sparks flew when our metal connected, and I was pushed back against the wall. 9S came in for a second, this time horizontal, swing. I was able to raise my sword to block it, but the blow was powerful enough that I was barely able recover and counter his next attack in time.

He leveled his blade and readied to drive it through me. I managed to redirect the blade to my right and into the wall. I kicked the blade out from the wall and away from his hand and, by force of habit, I brought my own blade up to finish the battle. But I refused follow through with it. It would have been easy to just end it here and start over again, but I couldn’t. I needed to know what happened to 9S so that I could make sure it never happened again.

But my failure to end the mission had consequences. Too late did I realize his left hand readied a pulse band around his wrist, and his arm was already reeled back. His fist connected with my unprotected torso and I was sent flying against the wall to my left, bouncing off of it and onto my front. Last time he did that not even a scratch was left behind. This time I felt two of my right ribs shatter. I wasn’t the only one to take damage, however.

“Shit!” 9S held his left wrist in his now only functional hand. The other had its entire skeletal structure broken, leaving the fingers and palm bending at abnormal angles.

042’s gun started charging up. Whether the pod was out to avenge its fallen comrade or to protect me was irrelevant. 9S couldn’t die yet.

“Pod, do not interfere. That’s an order!”

“Affirmative.”

 Like the pain never existed, 9S dropped his hand and looked in my general direction. “2B? Is that you?”

“Yes, it’s me, 9S!” I was desperate to get through to him somehow. I hoped my voice was the key to doing so.

“Even better!” His blade burnt back into his right hand and he made another leap to cleave his sword down through me.

I had only gotten into a kneeling position before he started his descent. With my right hand on the handle and my left behind the blade, I blocked his attack in time. He kept the blades locked as he pushed against me harder than I could, despite him only being able to use one hand. The empty sockets were much more painful to look at up close, but the anger was still too present despite missing the actual organs.

He must have sensed my distraction and drew back and in a single, effortless, motion he swung his blade up to the back of mine and forced it from my grasp. Virtuous Contract spun upwards before embedding its tip into the ceiling.

He did not possess my same hesitation. He brought his blade up to deliver his finishing blow. I only had enough time to cross my arms in front of my face before he could begin to bring it down.

Then what I can only describe as the feeling of a soul leaving a body consumed me before I was enveloped in a blinding white.

-

The feeling of weightlessness took me over before I realized I was standing on a patch of excessively smooth terrain. Aside from the silver spotlight that encircled me the world was pitch-black, and only my voice broke the silence.

“Where am I?”

“Unit 2B’s personality data has been temporarily uploaded into Unit 9S’ hacking space.” A holographic form of 042 hovered on my right. “Due to Unit 2B’s hesitation, this tactical support unit deemed it necessary to aid Unit 2B in another approach, one to make Unit 9S more cooperative.”

042 must have recognized my intentions. The pod’s deductive skills were impressive.

On closer inspection my own data had taken on its own holographic form, one that was a lot less superficial than 042’s.

“But why is it so dark?” I don’t possess the necessary functions to access hacking space unless my systems were being exploited, therefore I am less familiar with it. But I knew it this wasn’t right.

“Stand by. Re-adjusting visual input. Adjustment complete, please reset the visual intake functions.”

“How—“

“Blink.”

So I did, and in the literal blink of an eye the dark and silent world of 9S’ hacking space lit up and revealed the calamity influencing him. Towers of data collided with one another and, like glass, shattered away into the depths of hacking space. Parts of the sprawling system plain were folding inwards on itself and bending into concave polygons that ignored any dimensional ruling in physical space. It was a miracle that my area of the system plain remained untouched.

“Incoming. Collision imminent.”

From above and to the left, a mammoth cube of data screamed towards me. I managed to dive out of the way before it could reach the system plain, which held little resistance against the cube. The area I stood moments ago shattered, and the far side of the plain fell away into hacking space.

“Get out! GET OUT!” 9S’ broken voice vibrated the system plain, cracking it further where it suffered the impact.

“Pod, what happened to him? Is it a logic virus?” Then again, he wasn’t exhibiting the symptoms of an infected unit despite being no less dangerous.

“Negative. No logic viruses were detected, but a scan of 9S picked up multiple malfunctions. Most notable are the optical functions and the strength limitations. Both are inoperable. Malfunction also detected within Unit 9s’ rest cycle function.”

“What’s wrong with his rest cycle?”

“No rest cycle detected. It appears to be nonexistent. Analysis: Without being able to exercising proper rest cycle protocols, Unit 9S has entered a state of exhaustion that limits all logic processing functions.”

Smaller cubes of data were thrown my direction. The ones I managed to evade pelted and broke apart against the ground. The couple that got a hit cut into my personal data. I was thankful that none of the data held a virus infection, otherwise I would have been infected as well.

“Proposal: Reset Unit 9S’ core logic functions to rid of any corrupted influence.”

“How do I get there?” I should have voiced that I had no idea how to repair him from the inside, but one problem at a time.

“Stand by.”

Before I reached the end of the system plain, 042 constructed a bridge of data that connected to a large rectangular tower on the verge of crumbling away.

9S was relentless in his attempt to break apart my own data. The bridge was not as sturdy as the system plain, and every hit it took broke and corrupted the bridge further. Thankfully it hadn’t crossed his mind to focus ahead of me and make the end of the bridge and the entrance to the tower inaccessible.

I dove through the opening the bridge connected to before a large chunk of data could take it, and me, out. The entrance sealed itself, and dented inwards as the data continued to strike the outside.

“It shouldn’t be him attacking me. Where are his firewall defenses?”

“Firewall defenses have been deactivated to conserve power. Unit 9S’ black box efficiency currently stands at 27%. Update: 26%. Core logic data detected ahead. It is imperative that Unit 2B repair Unit 9S before—“

“I don’t know how!”

“A vaccine has been embedded into Unit 2B’s close-range defenses…”

A holographic rendition of my blade appeared in my right hand. It was only made of enough polygons to resemble the general shape of a blade, but it held the weight that was specific to only Virtuous Contract.

 “…Apply the vaccine to the contaminated data source. Said vaccine will reset Unit 9S’ logic functions and delete any existing contamination.”

“Got it.”

The tower’s interior did not appear to have a vertical limit. The walls stretched upwards and disappeared into not what I recognized as hacking space, but an endless white sky. I peeked over the edge of the plain, the same applied downwards. Endless.

After ascending a set of stairs, the promised core logic data sat at the end of the plain. Its form was that of a bright pillar, poking through the center of a large hole that had been cut out of the ground to isolate it. Like the walls, it extended and disappeared above and below.

Its isolation proved useless, however. Blocking much of the pillar’s light was a black static that coiled around it. I mistook it for a machine logic virus, but a logic virus hits with full force and relies on numbers to overwhelm the systems of its victim. This, whatever this was, was too efficient and only struck what it needed to.

The static spread from a bulging mass attached to the pillar. The mass, on sensing my blade as an input device, opened up a port for me to insert it. It wasn’t smart enough to know that it was accepting its death, it seems.

But it can never be that easy. Behind me was a familiar scream. I turned and blocked the downwards slice of a blade just in time, but it connected with such force that my own blade was forced from my hand and slid towards the pillar. It refused to reappear back in my hand.

I jumped backwards to put some distance between me and my attacker. 9S managed to collect his personality data into a usable form to continue our fight. But this was hacking space, and compared to me in here he is no less than a god.

“9S, please! I’m trying to help you!” Getting through to him was a fruitless effort, but if I could keep him distracted and delicately put enough distance between the two of us then I could collect my blade and apply it to the corruption before he could kill my data.

“I don’t need your help!” His eyes were in their places and his body lacked the broken features it possessed in physical space, but his anger and exhaustion were no less apparent. “I have them to help me! I don’t need you!”

9S pointed his blade at the corruption on saying ‘them’.

“They’re going to help me. They promised!”

“Warning: Unit 9S’ black box efficiency at 18%. Rendering his personality data requires large amounts of sustained energy—“

“Pod, shut up!” I recognized 9S’ change in stance as the one he uses before striking. 042’s voice was not the one he wanted to hear.

“9S, if you don’t let me do this, you will die.”

His stance loosened up, though it wasn’t enough to be comfortable with. Something told me comfort wasn’t going to happen.

“Help me? If you ‘help’ me I’ll die anyway! So what if it’s on my terms?”

“I can’t watch you suffer!”

“But you can watch my corpse hit the ground god knows how many times? 14E must have been right, you do enjoy it! You just want to kill me yourself, no sport in bagging an already dead target, right?”

“That’s not true.” I continued shifting back and silently thanked anything listening that he hadn’t picked up my subtle retreat.

He either didn’t listen to my last response, or ignored it. Instead his focus shifted as his personality data lost resolution.

“It wasn’t easy, killing them. And not just because you E-types can put up a fight, but it _hurts_ killing one of your own. To know you get a kick out it? It’s disgusting.”

He was hitting nerves that would have broken my patience in my early days, but I willed myself to stay strong. For him.

I froze when he locked his eyes back on me.

“But you know what? I doubt killing you will be any harder!”

“Wait, 9S—“

His personality data lost its resolution and became a silhouette of gray static. From it emerged dozens of dark, faceless figures all taking the shape of 9S.

“Alert: Unit 9S is allowing his personality data to split. Black box efficiency at 12% and dropping.”

“Shit!”

The figures didn’t wait around. As soon as one was created it sped towards me and was followed by the others that came after it. The rate that they appeared increased after each one I defeated.

They were fragile, a single unit held no threat. But after they appeared by the dozens I turned heel and dove for my blade. In a single motion I ended the dive by rolling forward into a kneeling position, blade in hand.

A set of stairs constructed over the pit to give me access to the pillar, and the black mass covering it. Before I took advantage of it, one of the figures drove a dark holographic blade through the back of my kneeling leg and deep into the ground. Hitting the figure with the handle of mine shattered the being, but its blade stayed behind and kept me nailed where I knelt.

The two that accompanied the first figure went down just as easily thanks to 042’s fire, but the numbers coming from behind would easily overwhelm us before I could get the blade free.

Holding my own blade like a javelin, I took aim at the mass waiting to receive the vaccine.

“Warning: The likelihood of Unit 2B successfully—“

“Shut up, Pod!” I needed to concentrate.

Of course, that was an extended luxury I couldn’t afford. I heard one of the figures only two steps behind me.

Hesitation not being an option, I launched my blade at the mass. Despite having another blade driven through my torso less than a second later, I watched it fly over the pit and stick the mass’ opened port, which consumed the blade until it had been swallowed whole.

The vaccine wasted little time. The black static turned to gray, and like stone it cracked and fell away from the pillar.

The same effect was had on the figures that started to encircle me until one figure was left: 9S’ own data, which was frozen as it processed the vaccine.

I had a few seconds to acknowledge the sting of the blade protruding from my torso. I’m not sure if it was a reaction to lessen the pain, but it almost tickled in a way.

My vision faded for a moment, and the weight returned to my body.

-

The sound of 9S’ blade hitting the sand-covered ground opened my eyes before 9S’ shivering body fell forward on top of my own. With his legs no longer supporting him, I eased him to the ground and kept his upper half propped up.

“9S?”

“2B.” His tear ducts still functioned, and the fluid traced the cracks on his face. “2B, I’m sorry. They said terrible things about you. Th-They said I could finally sleep if my eyes were removed. They said they would help me. They lied about everything. I’m so sorry.”

It was hard enough to listen to his broken voice, and harder to listen to him apologize to me for something he could not have controlled.

“9S, it’s ok.” Despite my efforts, my voice trembled on the syllables of his name.

“I can’t feel m-my body.”

Before his neck could give out, I repositioned my hand behind his head. “Pod, what’s—“

“Report: Black box efficiency at 5%. Major motor functions and body-wide sensory functions have shut down.”

“On th-the bright side, none of it h-hurts anymore.”

His attempt at a smile made me give one of my own, which faded on realizing he would never be able to see it. One by one his limbs gave away until I was the only thing supporting his upper body from the ground.

“2B, I need you to promise me something.”

I forgot when I made the promise to be the one to kill him, but I would make the same promise again, and again until we were free from this tragic cycle of ours.

But after hearing what he wanted, I wished he killed me during our fight.

“Whatever this is, it w-won’t stop after I die. I don’t know how, but it’s a part of me. Please, promise y-you won’t let me come back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure his eyes are somewhere.
> 
> Probably.


	7. End Function

I wanted to scream at him. My mouth hung open in waiting, but the loss of words mixed with a struggle to fend off my tears choked back the air in my throat. All that escaped was a soft whine and pained groans when a couple of tears seeped through my efforts only to be soaked up by my visor.

“I’m s-sorry. I know it’s a lot to ask.”

Listening to his broken voice proved too much, and the tears I held back broke free. So much so that they soaked through the visor and started to fall onto his coat. Taking in stuttered breaths, I forced myself to speak.

“9S, please don’t make me promise this.”

“I can’t m-make you, and I won’t remember if you did anyway. I’m just—“

I did my best to keep him upright to help him breathe easier as his autonomous breathing functions shut down. Only a few seconds passed before he was relying on manual breathing to keep his black box cool.

“I’m scared of being forgotten, 2B. By everyone.”

I lowered my head to look away from him. “Killing you hurts so much, but there was always the hope that next time I could see you live without punishment. You’re asking me to take that hope away and I don’t know if I can live without it. I don’t know what I’d do if you never came back.”

“This will happen again, and a-again until command finds out I’m defective. They’ll just remove my personality data from the production lines. I guess the result is the s-same, but I’d rather you be the one to k-kill me.”

“Unit 9S’s black box efficiency at 2%.”

“Shut up, Pod.” I still couldn’t look 9S in the face, despite him not being able to see mine. To look at him and how much he suffered would only scream how selfish I was being.

“I- I’m sorry, 9S. I’ll do everything, _everything_ , I can to prevent this from happening again. But I can’t kill you permanently.”

He was silent for a few seconds. His only sign of life was his forced breathing until his cracked voice spoke again. “I don’t th-think I want these last moments to be of us arguing, not that I have the strength anyway. Can you at least tell m-me that you won’t forget me after I’m removed for good?”

“I won’t forget you. I’ll make sure no one forgets you, 9S. I’ll live to keep your memory alive, and at the very least you’ll always have a place in my memories.”

The corners of his mouth twitched. I assumed it was an attempt to smile. “I h-hope there are some good ones of us in there.”

I set free a short smile of my own along my face. “The best ones are with you.”

Once again his breathing was all that told me he was alive, but the pattern which he drew breath became more erratic.

“C-can I ask you s-something, 2B?”

“Of course.”

“What does it s-sound like when you call me ‘N-Nines’?”

Of course, the alternate name that I wished had died with the 9S that came up with it. It would have saved a lot of heartache over the years, but he told his colleagues and they agreed to use it, keeping the name alive well after the death of that 9S.

I gave in to referring to him as such after a short time. He said it sounded different coming from me, that it held a more personal touch to it but he couldn’t quite place the feeling. Every incarnation had a unique way of describing it. I cherished them all, and it wasn’t easy to choose one.

“In the past you’ve said it was like an old world melody. One that would motivate the heart to keep beating, to never lose hope no matter the circumstance. What do you think about it, Nines?” I made sure to speak his name as clear as I could.

He kept still for a moment. His own tears fell from the corners of his eyes and trailed down around his jaw. “I th-think that 9S knew what h-he was taking about.”

My attempts to refrain from chuckling failed. “You always do.”

“H-how about y-you? How d-does it f-feel for you?”

I didn’t know. Never has he asked such a question before, nor have I ever taken the time to think of a possible answer in the past. I scoured my memory for every time I called him ‘Nines’ to figure out how I felt when saying it. Time was precious, and I took as little as possible to figure out an answer for him.

“Every time I’ve called you Nines in the past, I noticed a smile on you that never appeared when someone else would refer to you as such. That name always reminds me of that smile. It reminds me that there’s a deeper connection between us, and we had that to look forward to after all of this. I guess it’s like you said, it helped me to never lose hope.” I took one of his hands in my own. “Even after you’re gone, Nines, I’ll still have your smile to remember.”

I nodded, satisfied with my answer. I looked back to him and waited for his own thoughts.

A few seconds passed. Then a few more. I looked to his chest waiting for it to rise, and back to his face again. His tears had stopped, and my own fell more rapidly onto his coat and neck.

I breathed his name over and over again and begged for a response, laying him on the ground. My head found a spot under his chin where I screamed his name into his chest until every scream was a broken, incomprehensible sob.

-

“It has been twenty seven minutes since Unit 9S’ death was confirmed. Proposal: In accordance with assigned orders, Unit 2B should remove Unit 9S’ black box for delivery to—“

“Shut. Up.”

“Acknowledged.”

I stood at the foot of 9S’s body. After studying the effort he took to make sure 153 was at rest after the pod’s death, I decided to try and replicate the sentiment.

Of course, there wasn’t enough of anything to construct a grave around him. Instead I could only manipulate his body to give him a more peaceful posture. With his head propped up by his pack and his hands crossed over his chest, much like he had done with 153, I could have almost mistaken him for being engaged in a rest cycle.

Almost.

His face held no expression, but the damage that he inflicted on himself looked no less painful in this state. It needed to be hidden so that he may be able to close his eyes and finally sleep.

Kneeling by his side, I removed my own visor and laid it over his eyes and tucked the sides under his head. Once more, I traced his cheeks and brushed the tear stains away. With a visor, he looked as I always remembered him as he slept. At peace.

The death of 9S did not complete the mission this time, however. I slid my hand past the collar of his coat to the left side of his sternum. My first instinct was to feel for the warm square on his body that represented his black box. That warmth faded minutes ago, so instead I felt for the difference in friction that separated the smooth surface of a black box from the outer flesh of an android.

My fingers settled on its center and pushed down to unlock it from its port. It rose when I released the pressure from it, just enough to grip the sides and slide the rest out of his body.

To take something that did not belong to me, when he was dead and couldn’t resist no less, only to hand it over to the Commander so she can have people do god knows what to it, I’ve never felt so undeserving of 9S before. The pieces of his intelligence he shares with me when opportunities arise, the beauty of the world that would pass by my unobservant eye were it not for him, even the quick observations he makes on my own status which never fail to remind me that he will always care through each incarnation. I never deserved any of it by aiding in such defilement.

I stood up and rotated the box to examine it for any damage that I would need to make note of. The silver lines pulsed as the box stayed in its now perpetual state of hibernation. Though not truly deactivated, a black box sitting at zero efficiency is just as unusable, for a power source, at least.

Such a small contraption held 9S’ entire identity and personality. Everything he ever was and was ever going to be. Removing it from him turned his body into nothing more than a standard computer with his memories as files to root through.

A husk. That’s what I have degraded him down to. Knowing that, I couldn’t stand tainting his resting place with my presence any longer. I let 042 dematerialize the black box for safe keeping and made for the only exit in the room. Before passing through it, I took one last look at 9S.

Maybe it was desperation mixed with a bit of denial, but I almost mistook him for being in the middle of a rest cycle again. So much so that something told me to reprimand him for sleeping during a mission.

I would have much preferred it to the current alternative.

-

While mainly populated by operators, the command center was never without a few combat models around. The two on the bottom floor were receiving their orders from an operator that might have needed to lower her vocals a bit. Three more exchanged data with their operators on the balcony to my left. Their discussion only added to the never ending noise that is the flow of data circulating between the surface and the Bunker.

6O’s wave never escaped me. How could it when it was performed with so much enthusiasm. I gave her my usual acknowledgment, a nod accompanied by a half-hearted wave before the command center’s elevator lowered me out of her line of sight.

And as always the only greeting that came from the other balcony of operators across the room was a sideways glance from 21O, which broke away to her terminal as soon as we made eye contact. Rarely did our interactions extend past such brief acknowledgement after missions that ended in me returning alone.

I focused on the command center’s floor until the elevator came to a halt. Its gate slid open and a waiting operator and I traded out use of the lift. The Commander stood next to her terminal along with a dark haired scanner model I had met only once before on rollout. 1S was his designation, the head of R&D I believe. The two kept their backs to the elevator, conversing as 1S manipulated a holo-screen. I couldn’t make out any of the data on it in the thin gap between the two.

I positioned myself on the perimeter of the circle designed into the floor surrounding the two of them. “Commander.”

After receiving a nod from the Commander, 1S swiped the screen away. The two turned towards me, the Commander taking the lead while the scanner hung back.

“2B, I assume your return means the mission was successful, yes?”

Without a word, I held out my hand and 042 materialized 9S’ black box onto it. I held it between my fingertips for her and the scanner to see.

The Commander glanced at it before barely turning towards the scanner. “1S, I want you and your team to begin your proposed studies on the box as soon as possible.”

“Of course, Commander.” 1S moved to retrieve the black box. “If it’s in as good of a condition as it looks, we can start within the hour.” Despite his professional tone and posture, the hint of excitement in his steps was more than prevalent. Whatever he planned to subject 9S’s box to, he sure couldn’t wait to do it.

He made to pull the black box from my fingertips, but I kept a firm grip. “What’s going to happen to it?”

He refused to remove his fingers as well, tightening his own grip and looked at me with frustrated wrinkles coming from a subtle snarl.

“It is going to be studied. The rest is classified to your permission level.” He tried a light tug followed by a less than subtle jerk.

“Why does it need to be studied?”

 “2B,” the Commander took a step forward and her tone became impatient, “Let go of the box. That is an order.”

The noise of the command center stopped, and I felt every eye in the room on me. I kept my grip firm despite protocols in me geared towards obeying orders screaming at me. “Do you even know what happened down there?”

My desperate, doomed to fail interrogation was interrupted by the Commander’s impatience. “Pod 042, relinquish 2B of 9S’ black box.”

I held my breath, waiting for the unwilling betrayal by my own pod. However, all that came was an uneasy silence before the pod spoke.

“Negative.”

Despite looking as taken aback as I was, the Commander still found the ability to speak when I didn’t. “Excuse m—“

“After witnessing its effects on fellow tactical support unit Pod 153, this pod has elected to discontinue carrying out and overseeing the ‘Dream Function Initiative’ for Unit 9S. Results have deemed it to be inhumane in every aspect.”

Without a visor, I was sure my confused eyes were visible to everyone. “Overseeing- Pod, what the hell is a dream function?”

The Commander wasted no time raising her riding crop towards me. “All present combat units, secure and detain Unit 2B and her pod under the charges of disobeying direct orders and compromising confidential information.”

Already the clicks of heels and unsheathing of blades commenced as the three combat units leaped from the operator’s balcony to join the two already on the floor.

I ripped the box from 1S and turned to face 6O’s combat unit-free balcony.

“Pod, boost!”

“Affirmative.”

Building enough speed up in two steps, I leaped upwards as 042 took the position under my forward-most foot and gave me the much needed push to leap again past the rails of the balcony.

The panicked operators slid over to the far edges of their desks as I ran past them and up the staircase, clearing it in two bounds. Before I could escape the room, the command center’s only entrance sealed shut and blocked access on both sides.

I turned around. Two of the combat units traced my path along the balcony and a third was boosted up by the remaining two on the ground. Those two made a line for the elevator.

Taking a position on the raised elevator facing the Commander, I removed my own black box and brought it just centimeters away from 9S’.

The collective gasp from the operators silenced the room as some backed into the front of their desks and others took refuge behind their chairs. The combat units on the ground and balcony took many steps backwards keeping their blades pointed in my direction for all the good it would do them. Even 1S had retreated until he bumped into the terminals at the front of the room.

The Commander was the only one that held her position.

“2B—“

“What did you do to him!” I would scream until it killed me, ‘emotions are prohibited’ my ass.

I made sure to keep an unblinking eye contact with her. She did the same, though the Commander’s habits of indecision betrayed her. She was quick to realize it and stopped tapping her foot and let go of her riding crop’s head, choosing to hold it behind her.

She was the first to blink and exhale.

“1S.”

“Commander?”

“Explain your dream function project to 2B.”

“Right now? In front of every—“

“Yes, now.”

Nodding, 1S worked up the courage to walk a step farther than where the Commander stood and addressed me.

“As you know, we androids can’t actually dream as humans do. We can relive memories we’ve collected exactly as they happened but we can’t create imaginary events in their place unconsciously, it plays havoc with the S-Flow. If an android were to relive entire memories that did not belong to it, the personality data wouldn’t be able to cope and the results would be catastrophic, similar to an unwarranted self-destruct.

“The idea of this project was getting 9S to experience a ‘dream’ and die either in a rest cycle or slowly to lessen the risk of a self-destruct, that part is beyond our control, while being the only casualty. For that, we couldn’t use entire memories, so we took the experiences and sensations of another unit and—“

“Who? Whose experiences?”

 “Yours. We figured that your memories would be tame enough to extract from for a first test, but we were unaware of the amount of emotion that was compromising them at the time.”

“My- My own memories?” My own memories betrayed 9S. They forced him to hurt himself and were the reason why he thought he was defective. But he was right in that command would find out. They’ve known from the beginning.

I thought I had left all my tears on the surface with 9S, but it seemed I still had a few left to give.

“We installed the dream function before his most recent incarnation. The function activates itself after he gains access to the Bunker’s main server. To test it we managed to up his curiosity functions by 107% and he gained access to the main server in one minute and fifty two seconds. We saw results right away. His S-Flow couldn’t translate the sensations into memories because he wasn’t actually experiencing them, but his mind still tried to process them as such.” As if he forgot the reality of his situation, he shrugged with his palms out. “What can I say? We really outdid ourselves with this project, if I’m being honest.” He humbled his posture after glancing back at the Commander’s more than disapproving glare.

Every damn, self-praising syllable made my lips curl back and teeth clench tighter. I was ready to clear the entire room and tear the sadistic scanner limb from limb. I wanted him to feel what he made 9S go through. What I’ve gone through.

But it clicked that I wouldn’t be there for 9S ever again, even if I surrendered now.

“What about me? It’s my mission to kill him!”

“2B,” the Commander evened her placement with the scanner, “we’ve noticed a steady increase in time between you receiving your orders and completing them. Your request to cancel your mission eight days ago, which as you’re aware was denied, was the tipping point.”

“But I still _completed_ the mission!”

“And we can’t risk the day you don’t. 1S has had this option from the beginning, but, as your pod stated, it was considered inhumane. So we went with the executioner method and paired him with you, but now you’ve left us with little choice.”

“I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again. I’ll kill 9S when I’m told, just get that damn thing out of him!”

1S shook his head. “No can do. The dream function is a part of his base personality data. In order to remove it we’d need to delete 9S’data from the production lines, and I’m afraid he is far too valuable.”

“But what’ll happen to—“

“You’re an advanced, not to mention expensive, combat model. Decommissioning you would be a waste of resources and potential. Instead you’ll undergo the blank slate process. All of your memories, both current and backed up, will be erased so that you can perform your typical E-unit duties again without hindrance.”

The Commander chimed in. “You’ll be free, 2B. You will never have to kill 9S again.”  

It was more than tempting, almost a wish come true, to live in ignorance of the betrayals and murders I’ve committed. But I promised that I would never forget him. To betray 9S’ final wish just for my own selfish comfort would mean I never deserved life in the first place, much less spending part of that life by his side.

But if I didn’t remember him or that promise, would it matter to me?

I broke my focus from the Commander and 1S. Many of the operators flinched as I glanced over them. They were scared and had the right to be so, causing a black box reaction in the Bunker would not only kill their physical forms, but also eliminate the only place where they would be rebuilt and have their memories restored. Death would become permanent.

21O and 6O opted to keep to their chairs as opposed to cowering behind them. 21O was more subtle about her fear, although it was still present in her upset eyes and in the grip she had on the balcony’s railing. 6O shivered and kept her hands pinned to her chest, letting her tears trail down behind her veil. She slowly shook her head when I looked towards her.

My arms drifted farther apart, taking the black boxes with them. Only enough so that the combat units kept their distance.

There was something I needed to know. For the first time, I wanted a little transparency behind my orders. I looked back to the Commander.

 “What’s in the main server?”

“2B, that’s classified—“

Shaking the black boxes got her to shut up. “Tell me what is in the main server that’s worth killing him over and over again. I want all of it up on the screen for all of us to see.”

The eyes that were once on me now looked to the Commander in unison, including 1S’. Perhaps they were curious themselves, or they just wanted her to fulfill my demand to stay alive. I didn’t care.

She continued to stare at me before shifting her eyes side to side to see the androids all waiting for her response.

-

“So here’s the thing. I’m practically cursed.

“I’ve transported materials all over the continent, both the side covered in light and the side covered in dark and snow. From outpost to outpost on the sun-covered side, nothing goes wrong. The worst thing to ever happen to me was getting one of the smaller machines stuck to the underside of my truck. It’s not like I can just lift the entire thing off of its sixteen wheels to unjam it and be on my merry way. No, I had to find a large stick and poke the machine loose and haul its carcass to the side of the road. It cost me two hours, but all things considered it wasn’t that bad of a hold up and I still made the delivery on time.

“My curse doesn’t kick in until I’m here on the dark side of the continent. I have not had a single assignment that’s sent me to this side where nothing has gone wrong. It’s always something, like my last trip out here. The damn heater conked out on me, and it’s fucking cold in this part of the continent. Though it may have been more my fault ‘cause it stopped working after I deliberately drove through a machine herd. My curse probably placed them there. But the time before that? Four right-side tires blew out on me, and I had to get out and replace them. In the fucking cold. And the time before that? Some moose-looking machine jumped out from the trees into the middle of the road and I couldn’t swerve out of the way in time. Both headlights were taken out, and so was the windshield. As if not being able to see where I was going was bad enough, but I had a constant stream of air hitting my face for the rest of the journey. Did I mention that it’s fucking cold here?

“But nothing has happened to me yet. It’s been six hours and my curse has yet to take effect. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining, but it’s been putting me a little on edge for the past few dozen miles. Maybe this time I can get to the second camp before something happens, but my optimism does take a dive here. What do you think?”

No answer. I glanced over to my passenger, an android who missed her transport to this side of the continent. One of my stops included her destination, so I agreed to help her out. Man, two hitchhikers in two days. I should have considered charging as a taxi service.

It seemed she entered a rest cycle some time ago, which explained the silence. Come to think of it I never got her name, and it seemed a bit rude to wake her up only for a name.

Though I wouldn’t have the time to do so anyway, my next stop was just ahead. The communication camp’s lighting may have been minimal, but I’ll always recognize the silhouette of the satellite dish on top of the tower in the camp’s center. It may not be too big, but it blocks the best stars in the sky this time of year.

My headlights brought into view the lone guard they had out tonight. I recognized him immediately by his light frame and couldn’t help but smile. His name was Aspen. Much like the rest of the androids in this camp, his name came from a type of tree.

I don’t get it either.

Where I came from, names came from either your task or some odd quality about you. Everyone I knew told me they settled on a double meaning for me, which I was quite proud of for a while. That is until I realized Motor was short for ‘Motor-mouth’ and not just because I was a material transporter.

I’m not sure how Aspen got his name, maybe he chose it himself. Though I doubt it would make a difference what his name was, he was always fun to be around. From what I had heard, he was about sixty percent of the camp’s optimism. Sixty five on Tuesdays. No idea why, I’ve never been here on a Tuesday. But my curse normally disappears after getting to see him, and it’s nice to know someone that doesn’t mind my, or call me, motor-mouth.

The brakes screeched as they always do until the truck came to a full stop. Rolling down the window let the brisk air into the truck’s cabin, and allowed Aspen to see who was behind the wheel.

“Motor!” His open armed greeting and bright face were not an unwelcome sight. If anyone can keep a smile in this temperature it’ll be him.

“How’ve ya’ been, Aspen? When did they start putting you out here at this hour?”

After our fists collided, a form of greeting he taught me a couple of months ago, he explained himself. “We had a bad run-in with some odd-looking machines a few days ago. Tore through many of the tents and buildings. I’m just filling in for people who need extensive repairs.”

“Oh, sounds rough. You seem to have come out all right.”

He took his right hand off of the trigger area of his rifle and held all five fingers apart. Well, four fingers in this case. The ring finger of his glove flopped over his palm. “I’m also missing a few toes as well, but I should be able to repair them with the stuff you’re bringing in. Hey, you got the time?”

“Yeah.” I checked the digital box just above the transmitter. “It’s 0209. Why?”

“Cool, we haven’t missed it! Come on, I wanna show you something.” Putting the rifle’s strap around his shoulder, he took off towards the back of the truck and disappeared from the rear-view mirror’s line of sight.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little curious. I opened the door to step out, but then remembered I had a passenger. I looked at her to make sure she was still alive at the very least. The rising of her chest easily confirmed that.

“Um, you wait here.” I dropped to the ground where my boots sunk into eight inches of snow and carefully shut the door. After following his trail left in the snow I found Aspen, his back covered in red by the brake lights, staring at the dark sky,

“Oh, it’s right there!” He pointed up to the Moon, an early waning crescent tonight it seems.

“Yes, the Moon. I’ve seen it many times.”

“Not the moon, _under_ the Moon! See that little dot moving?”

Focusing my visuals more, I saw what he was talking about. No bigger than star, a white dot raced across the sky, just passing under the moon. I kept my focus on it as I was afraid I would lose it in the dense cluster of stars the sky offered.

“What is it, some kind of satellite?”

“That’s the Bunker, actually. It’s where all of the YoRHa types come from.”

“Oh really? You know, I gave one of them a ride earlier today. One of their male models.”

“Woah, that’s so cool! How was he?”

“A bit quiet. Boring, really.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, that’s normal for them. But it’s always nice to see them up there.”

“Why’s that?”

“It gives me hope. I saw one in action one time. She single handedly took on a goliath tank machine and walked away with just a couple of scratches! After that I realized that, with the help of YoRHa, we’ll win this war.”

“I think I see where most of your optimism comes from now.”

“They’re a huge motivator, I know that much.”

I thought it was just my visuals refocusing, but the Bunker started getting bigger. Then brighter. The dot of light that barely out-sized the stars grew larger than the moon. If it got any bigger I wouldn’t have known. I had to look away and shield my face unless I wanted to damage my optical sensors beyond repair.

Then the light vanished. Aspen and I looked up at each other, then to the sky. My visual feed re-centered, but I couldn’t find the Bunker anywhere.

“Um, Aspen.” I looked over to him. “What was that?”

His wide eyes darted back and forth across the sky, searching for the same moving speck I was.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen him without a smile before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Black boxes make the best fireworks.
> 
> .
> 
> You are under no obligation to tell me, but I'm curious to know what your favorite part of the story was and what kept you coming back to it.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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